


Dream Girl

by hwarang_number



Category: SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Blind Date (sort of), Fluff-ish?, M/M, Romance, and love the idea of minho just sweeping jonghyun up and loving the hell out of him, blond!jong, boys falling in love, dating mixup goes terribly right, hohyun - Freeform, i love them both so much, jjongsmonth, jongho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22426522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hwarang_number/pseuds/hwarang_number
Summary: Jonghyun gets matched up with his dream girl through a dating app and arrives at the rendezvous to find a handsome stranger there for the same reason. Inspired by a certain Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra sketch (VosG12PGGxM on YouTube), as well as that one amazing Tumblr post of shirtless Jonghyun with a caption about his “stupid little bitch waist” (which I, naturally, have been unable to locate since).**Moderate warning for language - basic four-letter word stuff and not too pervasive, but giving a heads-up in case this bothers anyone. The fic is otherwise pretty darn soft. :)Dedicated to the beautiful 2min writer who inspired me to try my hand at writing SHINee fic. 2min is my OTP but Jongho is my kryptonite, apparently. They make me so ridiculously happy.
Relationships: Choi Minho/Kim Jonghyun
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	1. Dream Girl

When Jonghyun spots the man sitting on his designated bench, his entire body jolts in stark dismay. If his dream girl really _is_ coming here tonight, she won’t even see him with this guy in her line of vision. In fact, she’ll probably assume that said guy was her dream man to begin with and head off to happily-ever-after on his arm.

He looks up hopefully at Jonghyun's approach and _oh hell yes_ , this is a dream man in-waiting. Huge, stunning double-lidded dark eyes, luminous olive skin, tousled silky black hair, long lean legs crossed at the ankle – and dressed to kill.

Sodam had approved every inch of her little brother, from his earrings to his boxer-briefs ( _sexy ones, Jonghyun-ah, just in case!_ ), before shoving him toward the door with a giddy laugh, but if she’d seen this guy, she’d have promptly pulled Jonghyun back inside again and cancelled his membership with the dating app for good measure.

The man wears a black leather jacket, slim-cut and perfectly contoured to his torso, with a gray knit scarf knotted artfully at his throat and dark blue jeans cuffed above black lace-up boots. The cuffs of a dusky blue sweater peek out from the ends of his sleeves, and he wears one wide silver band on his left thumb.

Jonghyun wears rings too – just a few tonight, nothing ridiculous – and had always thought it kind of worked for him, but this man _owns_ the thumb ring look.

Fuck, even his _hands_ are beautiful. Long, strong, and exquisitely shaped, all the way to his fingertips.

The man is three kinds of gorgeous and he's just sitting there like a handsome piece of statuary, regarding Jonghyun curiously.

“– help you?” he’s saying, and it’s really, _truly_ over now, because his voice is _deep_. Not corny American _hey baby_ deep but hushed and soft and warm. The kind of voice that raises the hairs on the back of your neck in a really pleasant way.

Jonghyun is so fucked he could cry.

"Um," he begins brilliantly. "I’m sorry, but – could you maybe move to another bench for just a little? It's just, I'm supposed to meet someone – oh fuck –“ He breaks off at a telltale burning in his eyes and brings his fists to them before he remembers his eyeliner: a subtle, smoky border, painstakingly applied by Sodam because his hands were shaking too badly.

"Hey, easy,” the man soothes in the gentlest voice Jonghyun’s ever heard. “It's okay. I’d happily move to another bench,” he says, “but as it happens, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here too.”

Jonghyun peeks at him between his fingers, rendered speechless by disbelief, and the man’s breath catches.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” he blurts, startling them both. “Actually, um…for half a second I thought you might be – who are you meeting?” he asks suddenly.

Conceding defeat, Jonghyun drops his hands from his face and himself onto the bench beside the man. “A girl,” he says wearily. “I signed up on one of those dating apps – the, uh, ‘compatibility-guaranteed’ one,” he adds in an abashed mumble, “and I’m supposed to meet my dream girl here tonight.”

“Hey, me too!” the man says eagerly, turning to Jonghyun, his mouth curved in a smile so dazzling that Jonghyun’s heart does a startled little flip on its way to the pit of his stomach. “Tell me what yours looks like and we can keep an eye out for each other.”

Jonghyun sighs, wishing more than anything to forestall the inevitable: that awkward moment when the man realizes that they’re both here for the same girl and makes some weak attempt to convince sad, small Jonghyun that he actually has a chance with her.

Half a month’s rent went into this disaster, and for what?

“Legs for miles,” Jonghyun croaks, his cheeks burning. “At least, that’s the description they gave me. ‘Legs for miles, a small face, and…very big eyes,’ ” he finishes lamely.

The man grins. “It’s the eyes that get me too,” he confesses.

 _They all say that,_ Jonghyun scowls to himself. “And legs for miles?” he wonders dryly.

“Nah, I’ve got legs enough for the both of us,” the man laughs. “I’m waiting on a ‘small, shapely blonde with eyes to drown in.’ ”

Jonghyun’s sigh of relief comes out like a moan and he claps a hand over his mouth in horror. “I just – I’m really glad you said that,” he says quickly, stupidly, causing the man to raise the inner edges of his eyebrows in a captivating expression.

“Because…?” he puzzles aloud, then – “Oh. You thought we were expecting the same girl?”

“Maybe,” Jonghyun hedges, not quite meeting the man’s eyes, and he shakes his head with a strange half-smile.

“We have very different types,” he says simply.

“Ah, that’s good,” Jonghyun replies, and in the ensuing silence, reassesses his appearance for the umpteenth time this evening.

Sodam snuck the insoles out of his shoes while he was brushing his teeth. _If she’s really your dream girl, she’s not going to care about a few centimeters,_ she insisted when he realized the absence, halfway out the door. _Just be_ you _, Jonghyun-ah. You want her to love you as you are, and she_ will _– she’ll take one look at you and never want to leave your side._

He toys absently with one cuff of his impossibly soft sweater: a cream-colored turtleneck, pure cashmere and wildly beyond his budget. A gift from Sodam expressly for tonight, stored in a box of lavender and allspice berries for the past week for ultimate romantic appeal. _If she can resist wrapping herself around you, she’s not worth having,_ she declared after an appraising nuzzle of his shoulder. _You’re like hugging a basketful of sleepy kittens._

“You smell really good,” the man remarks, and Jonghyun glances over with a small, gratified smile.

“You too,” he realizes. The man smells subtly, headily of musk and cloves, and Jonghyun wishes he could justify leaning over for a deeper sniff – or simply asking what it is – but maybe someone that attractive just naturally smells that good, and how awkward would it be to come up with a response to _Nothing – I guess it’s just me_?

“Oh good,” the man replies, visibly relaxing against the back of the bench. “I had soccer practice earlier. I showered afterward but you still worry, you know?”

Of course he’s an athlete, on top of everything else. “Couldn’t get out of it?” Jonghyun asks dryly, never mind the man really doesn’t deserve it. “Not even for your dream girl?”

“I’m the team captain,” the man chuckles, either unbothered by or oblivious to Jonghyun’s sarcasm. “I don’t let them out of practice for anything short of death, so I could hardly do it myself.”

Jonghyun smiles in reply, a more genuine expression than he intended, and directs his gaze along the lamplit sidewalk – conspicuously empty at such a prime walking hour. His nerves jangle with whispers of _not coming_ and _stood up_ , and he turns back almost gratefully at the man’s question:

“Where are you taking her?”

“Um…well, it’s late enough that she might have eaten already,” he says. “So I thought: coffee and macarons at this café I really love, then there’s a quiet little jazz club where a friend and I perform sometimes – uh, he plays piano, I sing,” he explains, earning an impressed eyebrow-raise from the other man. “It’s pretty casual but there’s dancing, if she wants, and decent appetizers if she’s hungry.”

 _Snore,_ he reflects miserably, and applauds himself for leaving out the bit about the open-late bookstore next door to the café and the poetry books he conveniently arranged there on his way over, just in case they happen to stop in. Not to mention the fact that Taemin performing tonight is getting them free admission to the club and a customized playlist, as it were.

 _Flag me down if it’s going well – or not – and you can step in and sing to her, hyung,_ his impish friend had urged. _I guarantee you won’t make it home in one piece – if you make it home at all._

“Sounds perfect,” the man says, “romantic as hell,” and Jonghyun looks up at him in surprise, narrowly biting back a gape. Without warning, the man brushes a hand across Jonghyun’s sleeve and a shiver – not altogether unpleasant – runs the length of his spine in response. “You’re even dressed for cuddling,” he remarks with a smile.

“And what are you dressed for?” Jonghyun deflects, his cheeks burning.

“Art gallery,” the man replies. “I know, sounds pretentious, but I’m really into photography, and there’s a cool exhibit on right now. There’s a great black bean noodle place just a few blocks away from the gallery, and I thought we could wrap up with a walk around the park after and maybe…some hand-holding to finish,” he volunteers, somewhat sheepishly, as though he feels he owes Jonghyun something after the cuddling comment.

“Nice,” Jonghyun declares, and means it.

“Oh good,” the man says, visibly relieved, as though Jonghyun’s approval carries some strange weight. “So, um…you’d be happy with a first date like that?”

Jonghyun frowns slightly at the question but the man’s earnest expression seems to crave reassurance, nothing more. “Yeah – especially the hand-holding,” he adds cheekily. “Skinship’s kind of my thing.”

“Hence the cuddling,” the man responds in kind, lips curving beautifully, and a companionable silence falls between them.

“How many kids do you want to have?” Jonghyun asks abruptly, and the man turns toward him with a start.

“Come again?” he croaks, brows halfway to his hairline.

“While we’re waiting, I thought it might be good to practice a little,” Jonghyun explains, his blush returning in full force. “Conversation, I mean – for our dates.”

The man’s shock softens but he continues to eye Jonghyun curiously. “And that’s your opener?” he wonders wryly.

“No, but it’s kind of a biggie for me,” Jonghyun replies. “So I wanna make sure I get it out.”

“Ah, I hear you,” the man says with perfect understanding. “It’s the same for me, to be honest. I love kids, so it’s something I want to make sure we have in common. I’m the youngest of two, so…three?” he ventures.

“Hey, me too!” Jonghyun exclaims. “I’m the youngest of two, and I want three kids – at least a couple of girls,” he adds shyly. “I’ve got a little girl dog now, so I’m sort of practicing up.”

The man smiles, warm and wistful. “Ah, lucky. I love dogs, but I’ve always been too busy to get one of my own.”

“Maybe I can bring Roo here sometime,” Jonghyun offers, without quite knowing why. “If you live nearby, I mean, and you could play with her for a little. Dog-time is a must for quality of life.”

“I’d like that,” the man says softly.

Jonghyun lets his head fall back, gazing up through the city-glow in search of stars beyond. It’s a beautiful night, crisp and clear, and the man beside him is surprisingly good company to help pass the time until –

He shakes his head to clear it, having momentarily forgotten the express purpose for his – _their_ – presence here tonight, and frowns thoughtfully at his companion for a long moment before asking the question he really doesn’t want the answer to:

“Just exactly how tall _are_ you?”

The man chuckles, as though he’d expected this eventually. “184 centimeters,” he replies.

Well, fuck. “With or without insoles?” Jonghyun needles, and the man grins brilliantly.

“I can reach down things from the top shelf of my kitchen cupboards, barefoot and flat-footed,” he declares with a sort of mock-triumph.

 _Fucking beanpole,_ Jonghyun thinks, glaring at those endlessly long legs _. As if being tall is some sort of accomplishment._ “I need a step-stool to reach on top of my fridge,” he grumbles. “Wanna come over sometime and clean my ceiling fan?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” the man banters back playfully.

Jonghyun wonders if it would be weird to ask the man for his number. He probably isn’t serious about cleaning the fan, but Jonghyun genuinely wants him to meet Roo. He’s a really nice guy, interesting and easy to talk to; maybe they could even grab coffee or black bean noodles sometime.

If nothing else, maybe they’ll both get a friend out of this whole dating fiasco.

Jonghyun suddenly realizes that he hasn’t looked at his phone since he sat down and pulls the device from his pocket with a small panicked sound. It’s almost twenty minutes past the appointed meeting time, and there’s no push notification indicating that his girl checked in as “running late” or anything like that.

He frowns at the screen.

“Are you getting late for a reservation?” the man asks.

“No, I didn’t make any,” Jonghyun says, pocketing his phone again with a slowly sinking heart. “And everywhere we were going is pretty low-key, so…” He trails off. No use pretending, really. “It’s too late even to be fashionable, don’t you think?” he asks the other man without looking up, not really seeking an answer, so he doesn’t notice when none comes.

Honestly, he’s not surprised. Thousands and thousands of won – half a month’s rent – and ‘compatibility guaranteed’? He should’ve known it was too good to be true.

Hell, he should’ve known it was a crock when they revealed that his dream girl had ‘legs for miles’ – as if someone like that would even look at Jonghyun twice, let alone fall in love with him.

 _Or maybe there really_ had _been a girl,_ he thinks bitterly, _but she took one look at me and ran off before I could spot her._

How the hell is he going to tell Sodam?

He stretches his lips into a weak but resolute smile and turns to his companion. “I should’ve known I’d get stood up, but you –”

The rest of his sentence falls away at the expression on the man’s face. He’s staring down at Jonghyun with a gaze to sear your soul, lips parted slightly in small, shallow breaths.

“I don’t think we got stood up,” he says quietly.

“You think your girl’s still coming?” Jonghyun asks.

It’s a fair assumption, really. He’s the sort of guy girls would kill to date – sweet, tall, fit, sexy as hell – definitely not the kind of man you stand up. His dream girl is probably cursing her shoes and running through the park in a drama-worthy montage at this very moment.

The man presses his lips together and looks away. “I think she got here a while ago,” he says, his voice strangely rough.

Jonghyun clears his throat, wondering why his breath is quickening too, and why it’s suddenly easier to inhale with the man’s eyes averted. “You…you think she saw you were with someone,” he puzzles, “and, what: she’s waiting for me to leave?”

“No, I…” The man hesitates, rubbing his palms on his jeans and biting his lips together, as though he’s struggling with what to say or how to say it, then suddenly his eyes are locked with Jonghyun’s and Jonghyun thinks he may never actually breathe again.

“I think _you’re_ my dream girl,” the man whispers.

Jonghyun’s heart catapults into his throat. “I’m not a girl,” he says faintly.

“I know,” the man assures him, looking as apologetic as he does impassioned. “It’s just…every time you’ve managed to look at me,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, “I’ve found myself drowning in your eyes.”

The heart in Jonghyun’s throat flails like a small wild creature, caught fast in a trap.

“You – you’re small and blond,” the man points out softly, “and I was thinking – wondering – if maybe…” He trails off, eyeing Jonghyun – specifically, Jonghyun’s _body_ – with hopeful hesitance, and Jonghyun looks away quickly, knowing what the man is referring to, or rather guessing at.

“I, um…” he fumbles. “It’s just…my waist is kind of small for a –”

He breaks off with a sharp inhale as the man brings a hand to his waistline and closes warm fingers gently around the deep, almost feminine indent. The touch sends a strange, gorgeous heat straight to Jonghyun’s groin.

“ _Daebak,_ ” the man breathes.

“I like art galleries,” Jonghyun whispers over the clamor of his frenzied heart, deliberately looking everywhere but at the man. “And black bean noodles, and hand-holding in the park.”

“I like coffee and cuddling – and cashmere,” the man murmurs, cautiously curling his fingertips in the material of Jonghyun’s sweater. “And in case it’s escaped your notice in all this time you’ve refused to look at me,” he adds, _so_ lightly: “I just happen to have legs for miles, a small face, and _very_ big eyes.”

Jonghyun fights it, he truly does. But suddenly he’s on his knees on the bench with the man’s face in his hands, kissing each large, exquisite eye closed with desperate presses of his lips.

They’re almost amber close-up, he discovers. Soft black lashes, wide swollen pupils drinking Jonghyun in –

He pulls back with a whimper of distress and veritably leaps off the bench. He just kissed – well, not _kissed,_ but kissed part of – a man. A breathtakingly beautiful man – the most beautiful man he’s ever seen, hands down – but a _man_ just the same. A man who paid a boatload of money to get matched up with his dream date and has been calmly waiting for a petite curvy blonde _girl_ , not small stunted Kim Jonghyun with his stupid little bitch waist –

He turns to bolt, eyes burning, and a large hand closes around his wrist.

"Hey, easy; it’s okay,” soothes the gentlest voice Jonghyun’s ever heard, for the second time that night, and he feels the man come up behind him. Strong arms slip hesitantly around his stupid little bitch waist, making him gasp, and the warm weight of a cheek – or chin? – settles on the top of his head.

Jonghyun’s mind is torn between _Fuck, how tall_ is _he?_ and _Fuck, how does this feel so_ good _?_

“I’m sorry,” the man murmurs. “I-I’ve never done… _this_ , and I’m sure I’m doing it wrong. I just…I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t want to go either,” Jonghyun confesses in a whisper, and the arms snug about his waist with a stifled moan against his scalp. His nipples tighten at the combination of sensations and he arches back slightly with a whimper.

“God, you feel so good in my arms,” the man groans.

Jonghyun’s not sure which of them initiates the turn, but suddenly they’re standing face-to-face and –

“You’re so beautiful,” they both say at once, voices hushed and yearning, and the man starts a little at the statement, as though he’s only just realized that Jonghyun is as overcome and in love as he is.

“You were my dream girl the moment you walked up,” he says softly, taking Jonghyun’s face in his hands. His fingertips drift gently through Jonghyun’s moon-pale dandelion down hair as his thumbs trace Jonghyun’s sharp cheekbones. “I thought you actually _were_ her for a moment,” he reveals. “Except you weren’t a _her_ , and then I realized that…maybe that didn’t really matter,” he concludes with a tender smile.

His legs end somewhere around Jonghyun’s waistline, and Jonghyun stares _up-up-up_ into the most stunning eyes he’s ever seen. He never thought for a second that this was a girl of any kind, but somehow he’s everything Jonghyun wanted when he came here tonight, minus the damn Adam’s apple that some idiot placed at the level of his lips.

It’s handsome, as Adam’s apples go, and it bobs in a gulp as the man flounders under the intensity of Jonghyun’s silence.

“Please say something,” he whispers, dropping his hands to Jonghyun’s shoulders in a more socially acceptable pose.

Impossibly, his breath smells of jasmine and Jonghyun whimpers as his cock thrums in response. He’s lost in dark eyes and endless limbs and warm olive skin that seeps musk and cloves, trembling with the urge to kiss and nuzzle and burrow and bury himself in this utterly breathtaking person.

“Why aren’t you a girl?” he whispers.

“If you don’t know the answer to that,” the man says lightly, “then it shouldn’t make any difference, right?”

It’s a joke, but neither of them is laughing as the man draws Jonghyun deep into his arms and cradles him to a racing heart. “Let’s try this again,” he murmurs raggedly. “I’m Minho. What are you doing for the rest of your life?”

* * *

_On the opposite end of the park…_

“A _technical glitch_?” the tall woman scoffs into her phone in furious disbelief. “Telling a girl you’ve set her up with the man of her dreams and then presenting her with another lonely _girl_?? _No offense,_ ” she mouths to her inadvertent companion, seated on the bench in front of her.

“ _None taken,_ ” Junghee mouths back good-naturedly.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a man who isn't put off by the fact that you're 184 centimeters tall – _without_ heels?!” the woman demands of the quavering customer service presence on the other end of the line. “And I was supposed to be his dream girl!”

Junghee grins in spite of herself. The woman is truly magnificent when enraged: a veritable giantess with long, wavy black hair, large stunning eyes, and legs for miles; lean contours hugged by dark skinny jeans.

 _Definitely a dream girl in-waiting,_ Junghee reflects with a silent sigh, plucking absently at one cuff of her cashmere sweater.

“Choi Minjung-ssi,” implores the representative, “surely you understand: as Korea's principal dating service, we would _never_ actively arrange such a date, let alone a match!”

“Then where's my guy?” the woman persists, the anger in her voice giving way to palpable heartbreak.

“It appears that he and your companion’s date were directed to a meet-up of their own,” the representative replies. “There is some similarity between your names, which may have triggered the glitch in our system. I expect the gentlemen to report the mix-up in their turn, and another meet-up will be arranged as soon as possible,” she explains. “In the meantime, I’ve credited all four of you with vouchers valid at any of our sponsor restaurants for the inconvenience.”

“ ‘Inconvenience,’ ” the woman echoes numbly, and ends the call with a fingertip.

“You look way too good to go home and wallow over soju and spicy chicken feet,” Junghee remarks in her soft, shy voice and the woman turns with a start, as though she’d momentarily forgotten that Junghee was there, never mind that her presence was what had caused all the trouble.

She flushes beneath Junghee’s gaze, clearly mortified by her behavior of the past several minutes. “I’m sorry,” she says wearily, shoving her phone into a pocket of her black leather jacket. “I just… It happens so often – people mistake me for a man because I’m so tall and play sports, and _I hate it_.” She rubs at one eye with her knuckles, diverting a stubborn tear. “I really wanted tonight to be different,” she whispers.

Junghee stands, bringing her face to the level of the woman’s throat, and smiles _up-up-up_ into those striking eyes. “I heard something about vouchers to restaurants,” she says lightly. “What choices did they give us?”

“You want to eat dinner with me?” the woman puzzles, taken aback by – though it seems, not entirely opposed to – the prospect. 

“I'll be your wingman,” Junghee proposes with a grin. “No point in letting all this primping go to waste. What kind of guy were you supposed to meet tonight?"

Enormous dark eyes flicker over Junghee's soft white-blonde hair and sharp cheekbones and linger at the deep curve of her waist. “I'm more of a fried shrimp girl than a chicken feet girl,” the woman says slowly, raising her eyes back to Junghee’s. “If that works for you, I mean – and then we can save those vouchers for a real date.”

It’s neither a promise nor an intimation, and certainly not the one Junghee was looking for when she came here tonight, yet something strange and breathless and hopeful flickers in her chest at these words. “ _Kol,_ ” she declares, extending a hand.

* * *

The soft chirp of a push notification sounds from Jonghyun's hip pocket, but he barely hears it over the hot ocean-roar of Minho sucking his earlobe, deep into that gorgeous mouth, each pull tugging simultaneously and with equal intensity at his cock. He lolls in Minho's lap, legs long since knotted around the other man’s waist and his own little bitch waist – no longer quite so stupid – held fast in the circle of Minho’s arms.

“ _Yah_ – you're beeping too,” he gasps, grappling at the outline of Minho’s phone through his jeans as Minho’s tongue toys with the small rings in Jonghyun’s right ear. “Maybe it’s an all-system alert or something.”

Minho blindly pulls out his phone and tosses it to the floor, then curls his arms across Jonghyun’s back to pull him even closer, nuzzling his way to Jonghyun’s throat. “Unless the room’s on fire, I’m not stopping,” he grunts, sucking lightly at the tender skin and making Jonghyun shudder. “And even then I’m carrying you out of here, wrapped around me like a koala.”

“Mmm,” Jonghyun concedes contentedly, but he works his phone out of his pocket just the same with the hand not buried to the knuckles in Minho’s lush dark hair and balances it atop Minho’s head to peer at the notification.

“ _Yah_ ,” he says again, lightly tapping Minho’s head with the edge of his phone to get his attention – not that he really wants Minho to stop what he’s doing. “It’s from the dating app.”

Minho chuckles softly and presses an open-mouthed kiss to the patch of damp skin he’s sucked pink and sensitive. “ _Please_ tell me it’s a satisfaction survey about our meet-up.”

“It’s…an apology,” Jonghyun deduces through his pleasure-haze. “They…they sent us restaurant vouchers for the ‘inconvenience’ and apologized for the mistake in our meet-up arrangements.”

“No mistake from where I'm sitting,” Minho murmurs and rocks his hips gently, deep between Jonghyun’s splayed legs.

 _Why does it feel so good to have a cock between your thighs?_ Jonghyun wonders, dazed by the raw bliss of the contact. _How can it feel so incredible to have another one rubbing against yours, even through two layers of denim?_

He’s never felt so good in all his life as he has since his body touched Minho’s.

"Still, that was nice of them," he pants, dropping his phone among the sofa cushions and angling Minho’s head back with both hands to move in for a kiss.

“Wanna use one of those vouchers for breakfast?” the other man ventures shyly, gazing up at Jonghyun through his lashes.

“ _Yah!_ I'm not that easy!” Jonghyun yips, pushing Minho’s shoulders back against the cushions in indignation, even as his thighs remain thoroughly melted around the other man’s pelvis.

“Me neither,” Minho assures him quickly, blushing at the implication even as he reaches for Jonghyun, bringing a hand to his face. “I just meant – I just... I don't want you to leave,” he admits. “I’m worried this is a dream or something and that when I wake up tomorrow, none of it will have ever happened.”

“Me too,” Jonghyun says, acutely aware of the feeling. It’s like one of those rare, purely _happy_ dreams that’s so good yet so believable it just has to be real, and then suddenly you wake up, alone in a cold bed with tears streaming down your face at the loss.

“But I don't want to rush anything,” Minho insists.

“Me neither,” Jonghyun agrees. “I like you a lot – so, _so_ much,” he whispers. “And I'm still trying to make sense of that.”

“I like the hell out of you,” Minho whispers, cupping Jonghyun’s face in both hands, “and it scares the hell out of me. But everything about this – about _you_ – feels so damn _good._ ”

“Same,” Jonghyun murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle his forehead against Minho’s. “You’re the best feeling I’ve ever had.”

He winces as the words sink in and draws back slightly to ask, “Was that too cheesy?”

“It was perfect,” Minho assures him, “because it’s true – for me too.”

Jonghyun kisses him quickly, feeling a word even stronger than _like_ simmering on the back of his tongue.

“I don’t want this to stop, and I don't want to ruin anything by rushing,” Minho says softly, stroking Jonghyun’s lips with his thumb. “Let's take it slow.”

“Molasses in January,” Jonghyun recalls from somewhere – an American movie, maybe – and Minho tips them sideways on the sofa, winding his long, lean body around Jonghyun's wiry, compact one and pillowing Jonghyun’s head on his arm.

“So: is kissing still on the docket?” Minho wonders, brushing the tips of their noses together.

“Mmm,” Jonghyun affirms with a sleepy, contented smile, rubbing his cheek against Minho’s sleeve as his eyes drift closed.

“What about cuddling?”

“Always,” Jonghyun replies.

“Can…can we dry-hump a little?”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jonghyun gasps, eyes flying open.

“Is-Is that too much?” Minho stammers, looking absolutely mortified.

Jonghyun surreptitiously googled "how do you have sex with another man?" (incognito tab, of course), somewhere between the art gallery and the jazz club.

Who's he kidding – it was when Minho walked away for a minute to look more closely at one of the photographs in the exhibit. When Jonghyun glimpsed his perfect ass for the first time and his jaw fell slack at the prospect of seeing it naked.

Not that he wanted it tonight or even all that urgently: he wanted (eventually) to be naked and entwined with a naked Minho, and he realized he had absolutely no idea how that was supposed to work.

There are a few pleasant things you can do with mouths and hands, apparently – obvious stuff that would work in the standard guy-girl scenario – but the main attraction, as it were, sounded complicated and downright painful. You… _connect_ …by putting things in places they were never meant to go – tight, small, secret places – and if you don’t have the right, erm, _accessories_ and do the right kind of preparation, things can go really badly.

Even if things go well – and according to copious explicit comments, it could go _mind-blowingly_ well – one of you will be _hella_ sore the following day. Limping, probably, if you can manage to walk at all.

That aside, the positions seemed surprisingly…normal? (though Jonghyun still blushed like a tub of _gochujang_ just peeking at them out of the corner of his eye) Knowing what part had to go where, he’d anticipated having basically one option and really liked the idea of some of the alternatives. _Loved_ the idea of being face-to-face with Minho, of being able to kiss and have their arms around each other while he - or Jonghyun –?

That was something else you had to figure out: which one of you was going to be the socket, as it were, and apparently guys really don’t like to switch roles once they’re established (not surprising, considering that whole “hella sore the next day” thing). Jonghyun’s pretty sure how that will end up (face it: they both know he’s the girl, even though Minho’s vehemently denied this all evening), but maybe Minho feels differently about it, and maybe it would feel good to be inside him –

“Say no if you want,” Minho says gently, bringing Jonghyun back to the present and the significantly less daunting, though no less weighty, prospect of dry-humping each other on Minho’s sofa. “I just thought – it's safe and easy and…just feels good.”

Jonghyun knows what he means. They’re not ready – physically or emotionally – for anything that could be defined as “sex,” but they’re both hard in their jeans and cuddling is only stoking the fire, not sating the urge.

“I really wanna come,” Jonghyun blurts, almost a whine, making Minho’s eyes go wide. “I mean, uh...I _need to_ , soon,” he fumbles out, “and...um, I'll have to excuse myself to the bathroom in a minute unless –”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Minho interjects softly, tracing Jonghyun’s cheek with a fingertip. “I mean...” He clears his throat several times but his voice still comes out slightly hoarse: “You could do that right here if you wanted, or...or I could go with you...”

Jonghyun whimpers as his cock leaks at the mental image of Minho standing beside him in the bathroom – the shower? – a hand, his or Minho’s, slowly gliding along Jonghyun’s cock, coaxing him to climax. Even lying here beside Minho with his own hand down his pants –

“I'd rather come on your cock than in my hand,” he babbles in a pant, not thinking about the words until they’re out.

“Fuck!” Minho gasps, his face curling, and Jonghyun wonders if Minho’s cock is leaking too. “Do you have any idea how hot that sounded?”

He does now, and the sight of painfully aroused Minho steals his breath away. Feeling bold beyond words, Jonghyun slides his hands into Minho’s back pockets and rolls them both a quarter-turn, so Minho’s body lies directly over Jonghyun’s, his pelvis squarely between Jonghyun’s thighs and their cocks wedged against each other.

“I’m so close,” Jonghyun entreats huskily, trailing his fingers over Minho’s back. He’s so hard that it hurts, and he doesn’t care how pathetic or ridiculous he must sound. “Make me come with your cock, Minho-yah.”

“Oh _God yes_ ,” Minho groans, his mouth clambering wetly over Jonghyun’s as he grinds down hard, rubbing their cocks together again and again and again.

Jonghyun’s come in his sleep and helped himself along with it every now and again like any normal guy, but this is the first there’s ever been another party to the activity, and the pleasure is overwhelming. Minho's soft, throaty grunts, his breath escalating as he grinds and rolls his pelvis deep into Jonghyun’s, his strong hands grasping Jonghyun’s tiny backside and angling him up just _so_.

Jonghyun’s so much closer than he realized. He’s going to explode – no, _combust_ – in his pants in a matter of seconds, just from the friction of Minho’s cock against his.

He's going to cry out – _wail,_ like the woman in that stupid erotic film he had to watch in lit class, mouth lolling wide in a ludicrous keening sound. He pushes Minho back and grabs a throw pillow to press over his face, but Minho snatches it away just as quickly, never ceasing the hard, rhythmic grind of his hips.

“I wanna see you when you come,” he pants, brushing Jonghyun’s downy, pale bangs out of his eyes with startling tenderness. “Wanna hear you.”

Jonghyun bites his lips together as hard as he can and turns his face away, squeezing his eyes shut, because at the very least he's going to cry – shit, he already _is_ –

“No, _look at me_.” Minho almost growls the words, laying long fingers against Jonghyun’s cheek and drawing him back with a fierce, ragged kiss. “I wanna see your eyes when you come,” he murmurs. “Wanna fall into them.”

Jonghyun slowly parts his lashes and the tears spill out freely across his cheekbones.

“ _Fuck,_ you're beautiful,” Minho whispers, and Jonghyun plummets over the edge. He comes with a loud sob as his cock empties forcefully into his boxers, a hot, sticky jet of fluid spilling across his belly as the pressure melts blissfully from his groin.

“Holy shit, I felt you come,” Minho gasps, eyes wide and awestruck, and he pounds himself desperately against Jonghyun’s sensitive, softening cock, as though terrified of being left behind.

Panting and dazed in the afterglow of the best thing he’s ever felt in his life, Jonghyun gazes up at that flushed, beloved face, so frantic for release, and slides a limp hand between them to squeeze, clumsily, at the rigid jut of cock in Minho’s jeans. A feeble action – he’s surprised that his limbs even _work_ , let alone that he currently possesses the motor skill to close his hand around something – but Minho cries out immediately, a sharp, high, _glorious_ sound, like a circling bird of prey, and jolts hard in Jonghyun’s hand, his head falling back, eyes closed, mouth agape as his cock pumps itself dry.

Spent and gorgeous with it, Minho sinks heavily onto Jonghyun, scooping both hands beneath his head to bring their mouths together. “Fuck,” he marvels at Jonghyun’s post-orgasmic pliancy, circling the slackened hinge of his jaw with a fingertip. “You're so soft I could slip down your throat.”

He plunges his tongue between Jonghyun’s lips, as though intending to do just that, and their mouths move together in deep, sloppy, delectable kisses as their breathing slows and their heartbeats steady.

After a moment Minho pulls back gently, licking his lips at a familiar but unexpected flavor, to wipe the tears from Jonghyun’s cheeks with his broad thumbs. “You okay?” he asks tenderly, inner eyebrows raised in concern. “I kind of…went at you, there at the end. Did I hurt you?”

Jonghyun shakes his head, his eyes still trickling. “N-No,” he replies, voice husky and a little raw. “It just felt so _good_.”

Minho shifts onto his side against the back of the sofa, tracing Jonghyun’s features with unhurried fingertips and here and there kissing away stray tears. “Amazing,” he agrees, smiling softly. “And this was just a preview. Imagine what it’ll be like when I'm inside you.”

Jonghyun gasps – a shallow, panicked sound, not a pleasured one – and Minho shakes his head frantically, his beautiful face stricken. “Pretend I never said that,” he pleads. “I-I got carried away for a second; I shouldn’t have assumed–”

“It’s okay,” Jonghyun soothes, tugging him down to press a kiss between his brows. “It surprised me, is all.”

“No,” Minho insists, pulling back from the gesture with a wince, as though he doesn’t deserve it. “I shouldn’t have… I-I’ve never done this before,” he confesses in a rush. “I… _any_ of this.”

“With a guy?” Jonghyun asks.

“With – _anyone_ ,” Minho admits, his cheeks darkening in a childish, charming blush. “I, uh, looked up how to… _do it_ , earlier – with a guy, I mean.”

Jonghyun grins, wide and gratified and utterly delighted by every piece of this revelation. “When?” he says eagerly, eyes dancing.

“Is that really important?” Minho wonders, even as his blush deepens and spreads toward his throat.

“Mmm,” Jonghyun affirms with a kittenish smile and tugs beseechingly at the front of Minho’s sweater. “Tell me, Minho-yah.”

Minho shakes his head and vainly tries to hide an answering smile of his own. “At the jazz club,” he reveals. “When you went up to sing with your friend.”

“You liked my voice that much?” Jonghyun wonders innocently – or rather, impishly.

Minho had practically seized Jonghyun as soon as he left the stage after his informal mini-set and dragged him outside through the club’s employee entrance, where he kissed him ragged against the damp brick wall, grinding his erection into Jonghyun's belly. _Gorgeous,_ he groaned, over and over and over again. _So fucking gorgeous. Can I have you?_

“You know I do,” Minho murmurs, nipping lightly at Jonghyun’s lips. “Your stunning voice and the beautiful mouth it comes out of.”

It’s Jonghyun’s turn to blush, reminded of their very first kiss in the bookstore doorway, initiated by Jonghyun but _entirely_ Minho’s fault.

“Anyway, that was when I realized I should probably figure out how this works, um…with a guy,” Minho concludes, almost shyly. “When I realized I wanted – _eventually_ ,” he adds quickly, “things I didn’t quite understand how to do.”

“I looked it up too,” Jonghyun confesses, his cheeks still warm. “At the gallery – after properly checking out your ass for the first time,” he elaborates with a grin.

“Oh,” Minho says, a little sheepishly, then his eyes widen in understanding. “ _Oh_ ,” he says again, or rather croaks it. “You…want my ass.”

“Of course I do, you punk,” Jonghyun laughs, playfully squeezing one firm contour of the object in question and making Minho squirm deliciously. “But not like that. Well...maybe,” he hedges with a thoughtful frown, because the idea of being _inside_ Minho, in some way or other, is not an unpleasant one. “I-I don’t know. It scares me a little,” he admits in a small voice. “Both, um…roles.”

“It scares me too,” Minho says, caressing Jonghyun’s cheek with the backs of his fingers and tucking a kiss into one corner of his mouth. “I want it to be perfect for both of us, whatever that looks like and however long it takes to figure out. And in the meantime,” he points out, smiling down at Jonghyun’s body splayed softly beneath his, “at least we know this part works.”

In spite of himself, Jonghyun sputter-laughs in reply, making Minho scoff and scowl and blush all at once. “What are you, _twelve_?” he says. “Not my dick, _babo_ ; I mean _this_...” He nods at where their hips are still touching, albeit no longer quite so intimately. “Making each other come,” he says shyly, lowering his lashes.

Hearing it out loud makes Jonghyun's breath catch exquisitely. Until a couple of hours ago, he’d never felt even remotely attracted to another man, yet about five minutes ago, this incredible, beautiful one made him _come_.

“Hands-free,” he murmurs, then winces at the recollection. “Well...more or less,” he amends. 

“Don't you dare apologize for that,” Minho says fiercely. “It was _amazing._ ”

“A weeping guy grabbing your dick?” Jonghyun wonders doubtfully.

“The man of my dreams making me come with one touch,” Minho replies with neither irony nor sarcasm, his eyes so tender Jonghyun’s heart skips a beat.

“So cheesy,” Jonghyun rasps, but he can’t force a laugh, because it’s so sweet and gorgeous and so damn _real._ “I'll try to rein in the crying,” he promises.

“Don't,” Minho blurts, and blushes at Jonghyun’s look of surprise. “I…I like it,” he says. “Not you crying, like if you were hurt,” he clarifies quickly, “but _this_ – crying because you feel things so deeply. Did you forget there were tears in your eyes the first time I saw them?” he asks gently, tracing Jonghyun’s cheekbone with his thumb.

“ _Oh God!_ ” Jonghyun groans at the memory and rolls toward the outer edge of the sofa, curling himself into a small mortified ball, but Minho only wraps around him from behind, sighing blissfully into his neck.

“I should’ve confessed then and there,” he murmurs, his mouth warm and wet against the tender skin. “I came _so_ damn close to it – but of course, you weren’t paying attention to me yet,” he adds with a petulance that doesn’t feel entirely feigned and roots his face against Jonghyun’s nape with a huff.

“We could’ve saved a whole twenty minutes,” Jonghyun retorts, though his very _soul_ is fluttering, and Minho gleefully rolls Jonghyun beneath him once more to pepper his face with happy kisses.

It’s so cheesy Jonghyun thinks his heart might explode.

“What we had was perfect,” Minho says, his voice saturated to dripping with affection. “I wouldn’t give up a single moment in that park.”

“Neither would I,” Jonghyun whispers and pulls him down for a long, leisurely kiss.

Minho wasn’t kidding about Jonghyun’s body softening with orgasm. His tongue delves so deep Jonghyun feels he could swallow it, and he parts his lips wider in both invitation and surrender.

When Minho finally surfaces for breath, his eyes flicker toward the wall clock and abruptly go wide in horror. “ _Yah!_ ” he yelps, clambering off Jonghyun and pulling him upright on the sofa. “ _Yah yah yah,_ you have to go!”

Jonghyun stares at him through passion-hazed eyes, perplexed and a little wounded. It’s probably a little later than Minho had initially expected the date to go, but didn’t he say he wanted Jonghyun to stay over? Or was that just a line and Minho has a friend or a roommate – or a _girl?_ – coming by and he wants Jonghyun out?

For a moment Jonghyun feels cheap beyond words, from his kiss-swollen lips to the cold stickiness soaking the front of his boxers, and then Minho elaborates, “You need to get home to your dog!”

He’s already halfway back into his boots when Jonghyun’s brain catches up. “I’ll drive you,” Minho calls over his shoulder. “God, I’m such an _ass_ –”

Jonghyun’s a lot stronger than his size would suggest, and he whirls Minho around, sending one unlaced boot flying, to slam his back against the door. “How the _fuck_ are you so sweet?” he demands, grasping Minho’s wide-eyed face in both hands – then ruins his alpha male demonstration by hopping up on stockinged tippy-toes to mash his mouth against Minho’s.

Minho catches Jonghyun by the waist and lifts him slightly, pleasure evident in the curl of his fingers and his deep, throaty groan, and lets his mouth be plundered for a solid, breathless minute before easing Jonghyun back down onto his feet. “I don’t want you to leave either, babe,” he laments. “But you’ve gotta get back to Roo; she’s gonna be –”

Forsaking all manliness whatsoever, Jonghyun knots his hands behind Minho’s neck and _leaps_ , smacking his kneecaps against the door as he slings his legs around Minho’s waist, then kisses him as soundly and surely as he knows how.

“Fuck, you’re not making this easy,” Minho pants, his hands fisted in the back of Jonghyun’s sweater. “Can I stay over at yours tonight? Or will that upset –?”

Jonghyun silences him with another kiss – a brief peck on the lips this time, followed by another to the tip of his nose. “You _absolutely_ can stay over, if you really want to leave,” he says with a soft, sappy smile. “But Roo’s fine. She’s staying overnight with Sodam-noona.”

“Overnight?” Minho echoes in surprise.

“She was really optimistic about tonight,” Jonghyun explains, his cheeks burning at the implication. “She bought me this sweater, she did my eyeliner, she even made me wear sexy boxer-briefs – _oh fuck_ ,” he groans, hiding his face in Minho’s shoulder. “Could you please pretend you didn’t hear that?”

“Pretend that the man of my dreams didn’t just tell me he’s in sexy underwear?” Minho wonders huskily, nuzzling at Jonghyun’s hair, but there’s humor in his voice as well. “People _pay_ for that kind of titillation, Jonghyun-ah.”

“They’re not sexy _anymore,_ ” Jonghyun retorts miserably, leaning back to glare at him. “I _came_ in them!”

Minho’s eyes darken in a way that makes Jonghyun shiver with anticipation and suddenly their positions are reversed, Jonghyun’s back pressed to the door as Minho leans heavily against him, wedging his thighs wider still. “You have no holy _clue_ how sexy you are,” he groans hotly against Jonghyun’s ear.

“Well, I haven't exactly done this before,” Jonghyun gasps out, and Minho pulls back slightly to meet his eyes.

“With a guy?” he asks.

“With – _anyone,_ ” Jonghyun admits, and Minho’s fiercely sexy face melts into an enormous stupid grin.

It might be the most ridiculous expression Jonghyun’s ever seen on that stunning face, and he loves it to pieces.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he protests through his laughter, smearing his hands across Minho’s mouth in a futile attempt to wipe away the smile and getting his fingers kissed repeatedly for his pains. “I’m short and shy,” he reminds Minho. “What part of that has women flocking over me?”

“All of it, I would expect,” Minho replies, catching both of Jonghyun’s hands and leaning between them to steal a kiss. “Anyway, being short doesn't give you a monopoly on shyness.”

Having met Minho, Jonghyun knows how true this is but makes a token point of scoffing anyway. “You?” he wonders dryly.

“I _am_!” Minho asserts, his eyes earnestly, defensively wide. “Especially around someone I like.”

“You had your arms around me inside of twenty minutes!” Jonghyun laughs, but so, _so_ happily.

“You were my dream girl,” Minho reminds him. “And you were about to leave and I'd never see you again. Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“I like your desperate measures,” Jonghyun says softly, earning a lingering kiss that ends with Minho’s fingertips skimming just beneath the hem of Jonghyun’s sweater.

“You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands off you,” Minho murmurs, face buried in Jonghyun’s neck. “How hard it still is. You smell like cozy blankets and spiced tea.”

“Thank Sodam-noona,” Jonghyun tells him, made breathless by elation and desire and his swelling heart. “She packed this sweater in lavender and allspice for the past week, before she gave it to me –”

“But you’d have done it yourself,” Minho insists, drawing back to nudge Jonghyun’s forehead with his. “Admit it.”

Jonghyun barely gets out the “Probably –” before Minho’s mouth is covering his again.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says huskily, catching Jonghyun’s lower lip between both of his and suckling languidly at its contours. “I have this whole night to thank your sister for, but credit where credit is due. You’re so damn _romantic_ , I’d be disappointed not to be covered in rose petals when we finally do it.”

“Does the convenience store across the street sell flowers?” Jonghyun asks in a voice too raw to quite be teasing, and Minho nods slowly, his eyes dilated black.

“If it gets urgent,” he says raggedly. “But, baby –”

“I know,” Jonghyun rasps, silencing Minho with a hand to his lips. “I just wanted to check…in-in case of emergency.”

Minho stares at him for a long pulsing moment then drops to his knees, easily shifting Jonghyun’s slim legs up over his shoulders.

Jonghyun’s cock surges delightedly in his jeans, oblivious to the tepid cloying fluid from last time, even as the rest of him trembles. “W-What…what are you _doing_?” he squeaks out.

Minho looks up from between Jonghyun’s legs and his stunning eyes are as loving as they are desperate. “Emergency management,” he says softly and ducks his head, closing his mouth around the denim-covered ridge of Jonghyun’s cock and sucking hard.

Jonghyun’s too far gone to protest again. He didn’t know it was even possible to blow – suck? – someone like this, through clothes, but he can feel the heat and pull of Minho’s mouth, even a ghost of moisture, and the visual takes care of the rest. Minho’s eyes are closed tightly in focus or effort or rapture as his beautiful lips grapple at Jonghyun’s crotch, trying to envelop as much cock as they can through the stiff, skin-tight denim and sucking long and hard and sweet on every mouthful with greedy, desperate sounds that resonate in Jonghyun's very bones. 

It’s safe to say Jonghyun never in a million years thought he’d have a man on his knees before him with a mouth on his cock, let alone Minho, whose looks knock Won Bin’s out of the park and who Jonghyun might just almost already love, a lot.

He fists both hands in Minho’s lush hair and comes – far too soon – with a cry, his back bowing up from the door and hot tears streaking his cheeks ( _bless Sodam for insisting on the waterproof eyeliner_ ) as a second round of sticky warmth floods his boxers. Minho’s face sinks against Jonghyun’s belly to linger and nuzzle – a breathtakingly tender gesture, in light of what just took place between them – and Jonghyun combs limp, boneless fingers through his lover’s hair, holding him close.

“C’mere,” he whispers, his voice the slightest shiver of sound as he tugs gently at Minho’s head.

Minho eases Jonghyun’s legs off his shoulders to bring his feet to the floor, but his hands return immediately to ground Jonghyun’s hips – he’s guessed, or perhaps knows somehow, that Jonghyun’s legs won’t support him at the moment – as he stands. He hesitates for a long moment, studying the wood grain of the door above Jonghyun’s shoulder, before finally looking him full in the face, lips rubbed red and swollen and his eyes penitent. “I fucked up so bad,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry –”

Jonghyun slips his arms around Minho’s waist and just _hugs_ him with all the strength his spent and sated body possesses, nestling his face into Minho’s throat. A stunned moment later, Minho folds his long arms around Jonghyun’s small body and returns the embrace with a moan.

It’s the first time they’ve simply, truly hugged, and Jonghyun wonders what took them so long.

This was how he had thought – _hoped_ – the night might end, early on, before any of _this_. When Jonghyun first thought about asking for Minho’s number for a future Roo playdate or maybe some help cleaning that damn ceiling fan (no, _really_ ). Upon realizing that they’d both been stood up by their dream girls – or likelier still, that the dating app had scammed them – they would’ve good-naturedly headed off to the café or Minho’s noodle restaurant to laugh off their disappointment together and said goodbye back at the park bench with a friendly hug and a promise to see each other soon.

Jonghyun loves to hug and Minho was made for it.

“God, this feels good,” Minho whispers, squeezing Jonghyun a little tighter, seemingly oblivious to the jut of his cock against Jonghyun’s belly – or maybe, somehow, that doesn’t feel as important right now?

“Hey, you’re –” Jonghyun acknowledges, slipping one hand between their flush pelvises almost without thought, but Minho stops it at his hipbone and tucks the hand along the small of his back.

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, winding his free arm around Jonghyun again. “Just hold me.”

“Are you for real?” Jonghyun wonders raptly, drinking deep of the warm musk beneath his face. “Did you really just suck me off through my jeans and now you want to hug?”

“Yeah,” Minho sighs, and it doesn’t feel like a lie, especially when one hand drifts up to cup Jonghyun’s head closer to his throat.

 _I might love you,_ Jonghyun’s heart quails.

“I’m sorry about – the other thing,” Minho murmurs. “I could tell you were…close, and I didn’t want us to rush anything. I didn’t exactly plan – or-or know what I was doing, but I thought…” He trails off and Jonghyun hugs him hard.

“It was _perfect_ ,” he whispers. “Unexpected and _hot_ and… _so,_ so good.”

“Hot for me too,” Minho says, to Jonghyun’s surprise and gratification and even a bit of relief. Sucking another guy’s cock – even through clothes – is a decidedly not-straight thing to do, and this is wildly foreign territory for them both. Nothing’s felt weird thus far because they’re just so damn _right_ together, but Minho did something huge and unprecedented to make Jonghyun feel good and it’s an unexpected comfort to learn that it wasn’t – for lack of a better word – disgusting or disturbing for him.

“I liked the feel of fitting my mouth around you,” Minho goes on huskily. “I could smell you through the fabric – almost _taste_ you,” he reveals with a moan and a throb of his cock against Jonghyun’s belly. “I wanted to bury my face between your legs for the rest of the night.”

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jonghyun gasps, but Minho’s not pushing for more; not grinding against Jonghyun, just holding him with apparent contentment even as Minho’s cock strains against his jeans.

“That wasn’t a request,” Minho says quickly, then adds quicker still, at a realization, “and not _not_ -a-request. I’m not saying we should do that tonight; I just wanted you to know how good it was for me. How much I liked doing that for you.”

“Noted,” Jonghyun says raggedly, running a hand – still weak with pleasure – along Minho’s spine. “And we can do that another time – um, _soon_ ,” he mumbles into Minho’s neck to hide his slack smile and warming cheeks. “If you still want to, I mean.”

“I _guarantee_ I’ll want to,” Minho assures him, ducking his head a little to nip Jonghyun’s earlobe with his lips – a playful acknowledgement that he knows full well the eagerness his lover is trying to conceal – then soothes it with a stroke of his tongue. “How’s Sunday at two o’clock?”

Despite their total infatuation with each other, almost from the moment they met, this is the first either has broached the subject of what amounts to a second date, and hopelessly romantic Jonghyun makes a sound in his throat that suspiciously resembles a squeal before replying with the utmost calm, “I’m free then. Where shall we meet?”

“With any luck, you’ll still be here,” Minho replies with a sultry yet gentle chuckle. “But just in case, I’ll give you directions to my bed.”

“Mmm,” Jonghyun agrees, burying his smile deeper still. “I’d like that.”

They simply hold each other for several minutes, here nestling, here nuzzling, filling their lungs with the unique scents of each other’s skin and hair and letting the boundaries of their bodies melt and mesh and merge. With the post-orgasmic haze finally clearing, Jonghyun frowns at the persistent hardness nudging his belly – Minho’s not pressing the issue, as it were, but neither does it seem to be relenting in any way – and realizes that Minho’s halfway, if even, into one unlaced boot and indeed, has been like this ever since Jonghyun pinned him to the door.

“Um,” he begins brilliantly. “Not that I’m not loving the hell out of this, but…shouldn’t we make you a little more comfortable?”

Minho chuckles, low and soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this comfortable in my life, but you’re right, I think we need an intermission.”

Jonghyun leans back to find Minho wearing an almost childishly abashed smile and even blushing a little. “Unromantic as it is,” he says, “I really owe you clean underwear and probably a shower.”

“That _could_ be romantic,” Jonghyun points out – simple acknowledgement of a fact they’re both aware of, not really being suggestive (or at least, not _entirely_ ), but Minho gives a tight, deliberate shake of his head.

“As much as I'm looking forward to being naked and wet with you –” he begins in a not-altogether-even voice.

“I know,” Jonghyun stops him, as though recounting a frustrating rule: “Not nearly enough flowers.”

Minho laughs lightly. “And more to the point,” he informs Jonghyun, “I only have a shower, not a tub.”

“Oh _God,_ so cheesy!” Jonghyun groans, but there’s absolutely zero displeasure in the sound or the fierce color rising in his cheeks.

“And you love it,” Minho declares, kissing him soundly. “I’ll rent us a hotel room and fill the tub with red chrysanthemums.”

“Save your money,” Jonghyun tells him, blushing hotter still. “I have a tub.”

“Of course you do,” Minho grins. “What about the chrysanthemums?”

“Give me a little credit,” Jonghyun says defensively, as though his reputation as a romantic is in question. “I bought a potted one the day I signed up with the dating app and I've been singing and reading poetry to it ever since, in preparation for the day I met my dream girl.

“It's yours now, you know,” he points out, suddenly shy, and Minho’s jaw slacks a little, as though he’s just been handed the moon.

“Wow,” he breathes. “It feels a little cheap to just cut all the flowers and sprinkle them over you in a bathtub.”

“Might be completely appropriate, if you pick the right occasion,” Jonghyun says lightly, not meeting Minho’s eyes. “And anyway, it’s growing like a weed; I had to repot it a few nights ago and should probably divide it soon, unless –”

Minho silences him with a deep, lingering kiss. “Why are you adorable too?” he asks, but his eyes are soft and his tone entirely serious, as though he’s trying to say more than the words he’s let out. “Does it have enough flowers for, say…a bath and a bed?”

Jonghyun’s eyes flicker to meet his with perfect understanding. “Yeah,” he whispers.

“Good,” Minho says, but it comes out hoarse and a little raw. “You pick the day, tomorrow or next week or ten years from now, and we’ll – _I’ll_ ,” he amends in a quiet, ragged voice, “do whatever you want.”

 _I love you,_ Jonghyun’s heart cries, and he chokes back the word before it can force its way out. “ _We’ll_ ,” he says instead. “Everything you said, only _we_.”

“ _We_ ,” Minho echoes in a whisper, resting his forehead against Jonghyun’s.

It’s a beautiful word, and an even more beautiful thought.

Minho settles Jonghyun in the bathroom with copious small kisses and a promise to return once he’s securely ensconced in the shower with fresh boxers “– and, um…something to sleep in, if you still want…”

Jonghyun’s not averse to sleeping naked – to being naked in general – but this doesn’t quite feel like the occasion to share that with his new love. “I still want,” he assures Minho shyly.

Once the door closes behind Minho, Jonghyun removes his sweater with painstaking care to drape over the towel rod, then wriggles his snug, damp jeans to the floor before carefully peeling the sodden, sticky cotton of his boxer-briefs away from his cock with a wince. He’s still so, _so_ sensitive – even moreso if he lets his body recall the heat and suction of Minho’s mouth. The promise of _Sunday at 2:00_ – barely 36 hours away – when he’s going to feel that again, and probably without the barrier of clothing this time –

His cock twitches hopefully at the thought and he scowls it into submission. Under no circumstances will he jerk off in Minho’s shower, and a third orgasm in less than an hour would probably incapacitate him.

His mind floods with the image of Minho arriving on the heels of an almighty crash to find Jonghyun naked, catatonic, and soaking wet beneath the still-running showerhead, cum sprayed everywhere, then Minho frantically wrapping him in towels and rushing him to the hospital while phoning Sodam –

_Noona, I think your brother sexed himself into a coma –_

_And how did you come to be there, Minho-ssi?_

_I gave him the first two orgasms. Oh, sorry, noona, I’m Jonghyun’s boyfriend. I know you sent him off tonight to meet his dream girl, but the dating app accidentally matched us up and as it happens, we’re totally gay for each other –_

Jonghyun’s face scalds and he stuffs his boxer-briefs into a leg of his discarded jeans, followed by his socks. Sodam is an amazing sister, but there are infinitely better ways to inform her that he’s crazy-in-love with a man when just a few hours ago, he was exclusively into girls and on his way to meet the one he hoped to marry.

Minho’s dismissal of his shower as a trysting site was not unreasonable. While clean, contemporary, and well-maintained like the rest of the apartment, it amounts to a narrow tiled cubicle, about the size of a phone booth, with a door of textured glass for privacy. Jonghyun and Minho are both slim guys, but they’d still have to squeeze together almost upon entry in order to fit inside at the same time. The water pressure is great, though, and the temperature perfect, and Jonghyun lets himself envision a month of lazy Sundays, spooned against Minho’s long, lean torso beneath the gentle spray or that long, lean body slipping behind and curling around Jonghyun’s smaller form, warm mouth nuzzling into the wet curve of Jonghyun’s neck…

Pulling the door closed behind him, Jonghyun directs the showerhead toward his pelvis – the only part of him that really needs the attention – and steps into the spray, head back and breath gusting out in a long sigh. After a moment he takes Minho’s body wash from a corner ledge, intent on siphoning a surreptitious teaspoon to soap his nether regions, and laughs with sheer delight when one sniff identifies the product as the source of his lover’s alluring musk-and-cloves scent.

In the next moment he’s struck by the insanity of rubbing an aromatic, slippery handful of _liquid Minho_ over his belly and his cock and deep into the cleft of his buttocks. Jonghyun has yet to encounter lube, but he has a sneaking suspicion it might feel something like this, and if so –

He jerks both hands away from his groin at Minho’s knock, resolving to let the shower rinse him clean unaided, and blushes for far pleasanter reasons at a quiet call of: “Jonghyunnie? Okay to come in?”

It’s probably time and past for the endearment but it still makes him so happy. Makes him feel so good and – loved?

He banishes the premature thought as quickly as it comes, never mind that his own heart is currently swelled to bursting with the urge to tell Minho that he’s progressed light years beyond _like_ in the past hour or so.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he calls back over the rush of the shower and watches through rippled glass as Minho slips into the room, a dark bundle in one hand.

“I brought your clothes,” he says, depositing the bundle on the toilet lid, “and, um…would you mind if I just – clean up – at the sink quick? I really don’t need a whole shower, but I can wait if–”

“No, that’s fine,” Jonghyun tells him. “Quicker this way, right?”

He’s not entirely sure what all _clean up_ entails, but when Minho pulls his sweater over his head, Jonghyun quickly averts his eyes. The sight of that long, lean torso is too nice, even blurred by the glass of the shower door – too good, too _welcome_ – but this isn’t how he should see it for the first time.

He hears a zipper descend and his mouth goes dry.

“Are you looking?” Minho asks softly. His voice is muffled by the rush of the shower but the tone is gentle. Not confrontational, accusative, or even joking.

“Are _you_ looking?” Jonghyun rasps back, eyes fixed on the rearmost wall of the shower.

“I only did for a second, when I came in,” Minho replies, and Jonghyun thinks he hears a tremor beneath the words. “Not anymore.”

“Do…do you want to?” he quavers in turn.

“More than you can imagine,” Minho answers, and the words are very nearly a moan. “But it would be kind of – counterproductive – at the moment.”

Jonghyun thinks of Minho’s persistently ignored erection and thrills to the thought of his own body causing – _intensifying_ – that.

“Um,” he says faintly, brilliant as ever.

“I’ll be done soon, okay?” Minho promises. “And, um…you can look if you want,” he adds quietly.

Jonghyun stares openly through rippled glass as Minho shucks his jeans and boxers all at once – efficiently, not provocatively – only to turn swiftly back to face the rear wall when his cock responds to the blurry contours of bare, olive-skinned buttocks with a degree of enthusiasm that mortifies him.

“I’m grateful for the invite, but it would be – counterproductive – for me too,” he tells Minho, giving the organ a mortified shove with his knuckles, and Minho makes a ragged – maybe pained – attempt at a laugh.

“I’m flattered,” he replies.

He assures Jonghyun that running the sink really shouldn’t affect the shower temperature or pressure – it doesn’t – and ultimately all he needs to do is soak a washcloth. A washcloth Jonghyun deliberately tries not to think about rubbing, wet and rough, across the flat plane of Minho’s belly and lower, laving around and along Minho’s cock like Jonghyun thinks he might die to do with his tongue.

“Jonghyun-ah,” Minho says, soft and suddenly. “I need to tell you something.”

Jonghyun’s heart jolts as the bottom drops out of his universe. “If you’re about to break up with me,” he croaks with a feeble attempt at humor, “I swear to God, I’m charging out of here right now, dripping wet and junk swinging, to beat the crap out of you.”

“No,” Minho says quickly, firmly, “it’s nothing like that. It’s – something I don’t think I can say with you looking at me.”

“I’ll turn around then, shall I?” Jonghyun teases weakly and sees Minho start from the corner of his eye. “I’m not looking, Minho-yah,” he assures him. “What do you want to tell me?”

There’s a hesitant pause, some quiet rustles of clothing, and Minho’s shoulder – now covered by a black t-shirt – presses against the outside of the shower door. “I think you know how much I want you,” he begins quietly, and the words make Jonghyun shiver to his bones. “I mean, physically,” Minho clarifies. “I've never been so attracted to another person in my life, and touching you feels so good it almost _hurts._ ”

“But?” Jonghyun guesses in a rasp, his heart on the cusp of crumbling.

“But,” Minho confirms, “I've been all over you since we met – touching and kissing and grinding and….and I don't want you to think that's all I want.”

Jonghyun swallows thickly, terrified and breathless and terrified for _being_ breathless, because this absolutely can’t be going anywhere good. “So…what _do_ you want?” he whispers.

Minho moans softly and presses his back to the shower door, sinking heavily against it. He’s so close Jonghyun could run a hand through his hair – could take him in his arms – if not for the thick pane of rippled glass between them.

“I want to wrap you in an extra scarf when it’s cold and nestle beside you in bed while you’re working on your laptop,” he says in a low, tender, trembling voice, and Jonghyun’s knees buckle so badly that only a flailing hand catching at one of the ledges keeps him upright.

Minho half-turns at the sound but Jonghyun stops him with a frantic little, “ _Don’t!_ I-I’m okay,” he says quickly. “ _Please,_ don’t stop _._ ”

The moment the words are out, it occurs to Jonghyun that maybe Minho had completed his declaration with that single – _wonderful_ – statement, but before mortification can descend, Minho resumes in an equally passionate, unsteady tone: “I want to steal your glasses and play-wrestle you for them in the sheets till I finally surrender them for a forfeit of kisses. I want to carry you to bed when you fall asleep on the couch and curl myself around you beneath the covers till there isn’t an inch of you that isn’t blanketed with me. I want to kiss you in the doorway when you’re leaving for work and run after you when you forget your coffee on the counter.

“Jonghyunnie,” he whispers, turning to rest his cheek against the glass. “I think I –”

The whimpering sob bursts from Jonghyun’s throat in the most epic demonstration of bad timing imaginable.

“You’re not okay, are you?” Minho says, tenderness giving way to concern, shifting his body against the shower door so he’s angled toward Jonghyun without looking at him. “I know you slipped a minute ago. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“I’m _fine,_ ” Jonghyun wails, never more grateful for the mist of shower-spray on his face, should he shortly have to conceal the fact that he’s bawling his eyes out at what Minho said – and what he maybe, almost, could’ve, _nearly_ said. “I’m not hurt or anything.”

“But you’re crying,” Minho persists, peering through the glass in the direction of Jonghyun’s tear-streaked face. “Crying _hard_ , not like you were earlier–”

“I liked what you had to say, all right?” Jonghyun snaps through a sniffle, because if he’s pressed, the real words will come out, and if that’s not what Minho meant – what Minho _feels_ – this waking dream could be over as quickly as it began.

“That much?” Minho wonders softly, pulling Jonghyun back into dangerous territory once more.

 _A hell of a lot more than that,_ Jonghyun answers silently; aloud saying only, “You know I’m romantic, Ming; did you think I wouldn’t crumple like a –”

“Ming?” Minho echoes curiously, the smile – the _pleasure_ – evident in every particle of his being.

Jonghyun groans, because the name slipped directly from his heart through his lips with absolutely no consideration in-between, and he can’t decide if he’s relieved or embarrassed by Minho’s response. “Minho-ssi,” he backpedals, but Minho’s having none of it.

“I like ‘Ming,’” he persists, tracing the outline of Jonghyun’s face through the glass. “I think I won’t answer to anything else for the rest of the night.”

While Jonghyun squirms and sniffles and swipes at his eyes, Minho retreats from the shower door and picks up something from the floor near the toilet.

Something Jonghyun suddenly, belatedly, _aghast-_ ly recognizes as the heap of his soiled clothes.

“There’s a laundry room just across the hall,” Minho calls over his shoulder, as though this is business as usual. “I'll toss these in so they're clean for you in the morning.”

“Ugh, _don't_!” Jonghyun groans. “I mean, I haven't even rinsed them out yet, so they're still all gross with cum –”

He breaks off as Minho whirls around, approaching the shower so quickly and purposefully that Jonghyun’s convinced the door is about to fly open and accordingly huddles against the back wall, both hands shielding his groin. 

“In case I didn’t convince you of this earlier,” Minho says in a low, sensuous growl, forehead pressed to the glass, “your cum is anything _but_ gross. Not to mention,” he adds in a gentler tone, “I anticipate doing a lot of this sort of clean-up in the future. Might as well get used to it now.”

His lips press the glass somewhere in the direction of Jonghyun’s cheek and he slips out of the room, leaving behind an absolute wreck of Jonghyun.

Tear-stung eyes, heart so swollen his breathing has become shallow, and cock half-hard yet again.

Jonghyun groans in resignation and turns off the tap.

He can’t remember where the spare towels are supposed to be, not to mention his eyes aren’t functioning at full capacity at the moment, and he’s taken two blind, soggy steps out onto the mat when he’s engulfed in a bath sheet big enough to cover him from shoulders to shins – and the pair of strong arms that wrapped it around him.

“I didn’t look,” Minho murmurs against his ear. “I swear I didn’t look. I just wanted to hold you so bad.”

“So cheesy,” Jonghyun moans, letting his head fall back against Minho’s chest nonetheless and welcoming the sudden, slightly sloppy kiss that follows.

“Are you hungry, baby?” Minho asks softly, planting a wet kiss on Jonghyun’s cheek. “I could go for ramyun but that feels so cliché – and tawdry.”

“Now who’s the romantic?” Jonghyun counters, grinning like an idiot. “Anything’s good, really. Surprise me.”

Minho nuzzles his hair with a greedy sigh. “God, you make me so happy,” he whispers. “See you in a few.”

Blissed out and trembling from head to foot, Jonghyun dries himself thoroughly – if not rigorously, in the vicinity of his ever-hopeful cock – before slipping into the t-shirt and boxers Minho brought him earlier. The shirt’s design promotes an athletic event from some ten years ago, and Jonghyun surmises with a not-displeased blush that Minho wore it in middle school – the last time he was probably anywhere near Jonghyun’s size.

The boxers are a loose fit but not ridiculously oversized – Minho’s lean, after all, he just possesses a slightly more developed backside than Jonghyun – and Jonghyun pads barefoot out to the kitchen, following the unmistakable scent of fresh popcorn, to find Minho standing at the counter in sweatpants and the black t-shirt from earlier, drizzling a massive bowl with melted butter.

It’s so adorably, endearingly domestic that Jonghyun noiselessly steps up behind his lover and wraps his arms around his waist, burrowing his face into Minho’s back with a content little hum. Minho startles at the embrace, but only for a moment before he melts back into the warmth of a freshly showered Jonghyun with a soft, “Hey, beautiful.”

“You make me so happy too,” Jonghyun whispers into the valley between Minho’s shoulder blades and drinks in the shiver that ensues.

They settle on the sofa again, never mind there’s nothing they want to watch or play on the television right now. Nothing can even _begin_ to compare with staring at each other across a veritable vat of popcorn and smiling like lovesick fools.

Minho breaks the comfortable silence with a gently cheeky, “You look good in my shirt.”

“And just how old _were_ you when you wore it last?” Jonghyun wonders dryly, making Minho outright _giggle_.

“You’re so _small_!” he laments, but with so damn much _fondness_ that Jonghyun blushes to his earlobes. “I wanted to be considerate and provide you with something that might fit a little better – and there’s _still_ room!”

The last part of that statement is almost a whine, raising Jonghyun’s brows in confused curiosity, and now it’s Minho who’s blushing. “I didn’t look!” he says emphatically. “I swear I didn’t look, but I wanted to so bad!”

Jonghyun’s beginning to worry that Minho’s referring to the lower half of his body – and not his admittedly tiny ass – and is wondering whether he should be indignant at the potential slight to his manhood when Minho presses on, “I had this idea… I know we’re trying to slow things down, so I thought we could, um…show each other our credentials.”

Jonghyun chokes on a breath, worrisomely certain that he’ll face-plant into Minho’s groin if he catches so much as a glimpse of that wonderful cock, whatever it happens to look like. “How would that slow _anything_ down?” he sputters.

Minho’s blush deepens to crimson. “Not _that_!” he squawks. “I meant our dream girl credentials – you know, legs for miles?”

Jonghyun shifts the popcorn bowl onto the end table and scoots in a little to regard Minho’s legs. They looked hotter in the jeans, if he’s being totally honest, but the sweatpants are a nice, intimate look.

He pats Minho’s knee in acknowledgement and smiles up at him, uncertain whether a compliment is called for as well, but Minho rolls his eyes and hops off the sofa.

“Before you freak out, I'm wearing boxers,” he mutters, not meeting Jonghyun’s eyes as his fingers dip into his waistband, and suddenly the sweatpants are pooled around his ankles.

“Holy shit,” Jonghyun breathes.

Minho has the most beautiful legs he’s ever seen in his life – legs so exquisitely, _impossibly_ beautiful he literally couldn’t have imagined it before this moment. Endless and leanly muscled like a racehorse’s, all toned olive skin and fine black hair, disappearing far too soon into a pair of snug gray boxer-briefs.

Jonghyun wants to take a thigh in either hand and scale each leg in turn with a hot, worshipful mouth.

Minho clears his throat faintly and Jonghyun realizes he’s been staring slack-jawed, mouth watering at the magnificent sight. He’s so besotted with Minho’s beautiful legs, his eyes haven’t even made it up to the cotton-cradled bulge of cock between them.

“If you’re so inclined,” Minho says lightly, “I have stilettos somewhere from a prank the soccer team –”

“No,” Jonghyun interrupts, because he’s never been less interested in something female. “ _This,_ ” he says reverently, pressing his cheek against one lean thigh.

Minho gasps at the unexpected gesture and lays a hand on Jonghyun’s head, fingertips dragging gently against his scalp.

They’re a handsbreadth away from an inherently sexual pose and yet absolutely nowhere near it.

“Not too disappointing, then?” Minho wonders, and Jonghyun gazes up at him with blatant adoration.

“I wanna climb you like a tree,” he declares in a hushed voice, and Minho smiles through his blush.

“I bet you say that to all the tall girls,” he teases, but so gently, kicking off the sweatpants entirely and settling beside Jonghyun once more. Jonghyun gives a little whine, hands twitching in his lap to reach out and wrap around one of those gorgeous legs, now so close to Jonghyun’s own that he can feel the radiant heat of Minho’s bare skin, but Minho doesn’t give him the chance to dwell on it.

“Come on, my turn,” he says, nudging Jonghyun to get up from the sofa.

“What do you want to see?” Jonghyun puzzles, because his legs are already exposed and they’re nothing much to look at – or at least, not like Minho’s.

“Your curves, _duh_ ,” Minho reminds him with affectionate impatience, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. “Your tiny waist and the way you taper into it.”

Jonghyun blinks owlishly for a moment, biting his lips together. He’s the sort of guy who’s perfectly comfortable wandering around the house naked, and he works out more than anyone but Sodam would ever suspect, but deliberately revealing a new part of his body to the person – the _man_ – he’s hopelessly in love with stirs up all manner of insecurities.

Foremost among them: is this the moment when Minho finally acknowledges – or maybe _realizes_ – that Jonghyun’s not a girl and throws him out of the apartment in disgust?

Jonghyun hesitantly draws up the t-shirt to the bottom of his ribs, baring a toned midsection, sharply nipped in at the waist, that no one would ever guess lay beneath his oversized sweaters.

“Oh, holy _fuck,_ ” Minho says hoarsely, licking his lips. “C’mere,” he groans, taking Jonghyun by the hips and drawing him forward to stand between Minho’s splayed knees. He pushes the shirt hem higher still, up to Jonghyun’s armpits, then curls his fingertips in the waistband of Jonghyun’s boxers, inching them down to expose his hipbones and the uppermost curve of his backside.

“ _Gorgeous,_ ” he moans and leans forward, lips parted, to suck at one edge of Jonghyun’s narrow waist. Jonghyun whimpers at the sensation and lets his head fall back as Minho cups his hips with a throaty, desperate sound and proceeds to explore the terrain of his torso, from sternum to belly, with hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses.

Arousal has never felt so simply _good_. Jonghyun’s cock rises slow and almost contentedly, like stop-motion footage of a blossom, unfurling toward the sun of Minho’s mouth.

The imagery is poetic and literal all at once. He’ll tell Minho about it later, he resolves, if it doesn’t feel too cheesy then.

Minho sweeps his tongue into Jonghyun’s navel and he shudders raggedly in response.

“I'm not a girl under here, you know,” he rasps. “Just in case – you were hoping –”

“I'm counting on that,” Minho replies, glancing up with a slow, slightly glazed smile before nuzzling at the trail of coarse dark hair descending from Jonghyun’s navel to disappear beneath his waistband. Minho traces the line with the tip of his nose, then catches a small patch between his lips to tug gently, when Jonghyun stops him with a gasp and an emphatic fistful of hair, drawing the other man’s face back from his body.

Minho gazes up at him with awestruck eyes.

“I think I love you,” he whispers.

Jonghyun swallows at the lump of exploding heart in his throat and brings his other hand to Minho’s cheek, letting the shirt slide down around his hips once more.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Minho’s breath catches and it might be the most beautiful sound Jonghyun’s ever heard.

In the next moment it’s the most terrifying, because he didn’t qualify the statement like Minho did – no _I think,_ just _I do_ – the pent-up declaration bursting from his heart when it thought it perceived a welcome, and there’s absolutely no way to backpedal this. His eyes go wide and he’s about to pull away in a panic when Minho’s warm, strong hands close around his wrists.

“Hey, easy,” says that beloved gentle voice once more, as Minho steadies Jonghyun with both his touch and his gaze. “It’s okay – no, _so_ much better than okay,” he amends. “I would’ve told you an hour ago if I wasn’t so damn scared, and then even when I did say it, I hedged it like a coward.”

“ _Not_ a coward,” Jonghyun insists in a whisper. “You said it first – said _everything_ first,” he recalls, and Minho’s lips curve in a small, self-deprecating smile.

“I love you to pieces, Jonghyunnie,” he says quietly. “I have from the moment you tried to ask me to move to another bench and I saw your eyes for the first time, peeking teary and gorgeous between your fingers.” He raises each hand to his mouth in turn and tenderly kisses those fingers, making Jonghyun shiver. “But it scared me at first,” he says, “and then I didn’t want to freak you out if you didn’t feel the same –”

“I’ve been trying to – _not_ to – tell you all night,” Jonghyun interrupts softly. “I had to bite it back so many times. My heart hurts from holding it in.”

Minho leans in to press a kiss to Jonghyun’s chest, right over that swollen heart, then nestles his cheek against it. “Don’t do it anymore,” he murmurs. “Tell me anytime; _every_ time.” 

“I love you,” Jonghyun whispers, cautiously settling his arms around Minho’s shoulders, and Minho curls his arms around Jonghyun’s waist in turn, leaning into him.

Minho makes Jonghyun feel his size in the very best way. Like he’s something small and precious to be enveloped and cradled with neither reason nor time limit, and he loves it.

Loves _Minho,_ so much his heart just might burst.

The shoulders in his embrace quake once, roughly, punctuated by a wet, ragged exhalation.

“Ming,” Jonghyun wonders in hushed disbelief, “are you crying?”

Minho lifts his head, revealing damp red eyes and a bitten, trembling mouth. Jonghyun thinks he’s never looked more beautiful, even as the sight breaks his heart.

“Are you the only one in this relationship who's allowed?” Minho replies in a voice made rough by tears.

“No,” Jonghyun says quickly, appalled at the very thought, then adds, in the gentlest tone he’s ever used, “Of course not, I just figured I was the only one who _would_. What's wrong, baby?” he croons, laying a hand against Minho’s cheek and catching a tear with his thumb.

“I went to the park tonight hoping for a fairy tale,” Minho says quietly. “For a nice, pretty girl who would somehow fit me perfectly, and after the best evening I could remember, I’d come home and tell my pillow, ‘I just met the girl I’m going to marry.’ ”

Jonghyun acknowledges this with a nod and a small, bittersweet smile, not quite trusting his voice.

“And then this guy showed up,” Minho goes on, his own voice breaking as he gazes up at Jonghyun. “This incredible, gorgeous guy who fit me in ways I would never even have thought to look for.”

Jonghyun curls his lower lip between his teeth and bites down, because the tears are already welling up in his eyes and the very least he can do is hold in the sobs.

“So my brain was saying, ‘This guy is awesome. You need to ask for his number so you can hang out with him sometime,’ ” Minho tells him with a wobbly attempt at a smile. “And my heart –” He breaks off with a sob and presses his lips together, but he doesn’t look away this time. “My heart was saying,” he whispers, “ ‘Forget the phone number. You need to take this man in your arms and ask him to spend the rest of his life with you.’ ”

Jonghyun whimpers, swiping at his eyes with his free hand before bringing it to Minho’s other cheek. “Well,” he points out faintly, nodding at the strong arms still wrapped around his waist. “You're halfway there.”

Minho gives a short, teary bark of laughter and shakes his head slowly, or maybe he just wanted to lean into Jonghyun’s palms. “You bastard,” he says tenderly. “You’re not going to help me with this at all, are you?”

“Depends on what you’re going for,” Jonghyun replies and holds his breath in anticipation.

It's absolutely impossible - beyond ridiculous even to imagine - but still he wishes with all his might that this incredible man he met a few hours ago is about to ask him something that ends with _always_ or _forever_ or maybe _as long as we both shall live_.

Minho clears his throat and laces his fingers over the base of Jonghyun’s spine, freeing his thumbs to gently circle and caress. “Kim Jonghyun-ssi,” he begins hoarsely, only to be silenced by a fierce hot crash of salty lips and the full weight of Jonghyun’s small, sinuous body hurtling against him, legs twining around his waist and backside dropping onto Minho’s hastily reconnected thighs. 

Minho’s hands, so big and warm and wonderful, slip beneath Jonghyun’s shirt to clutch at his back and pull him even closer, deepening the kiss as their tears stain each other’s cheeks. Their cocks brush and bump through the thin material of their boxers, but at the moment it just feels _good._

 _Complete,_ even, in a dazedly happy sort of fashion.

Three heady minutes later, Jonghyun pulls back for a breath and rests his forehead heavily against Minho’s.

“I really hope that was a ‘yes,’ ” Minho pants, tipping his head just enough to peck enticingly at Jonghyun’s hovering lips.

Jonghyun squeezes his eyes shut as his mouth curves against Minho’s. “Well, you didn’t –” _kiss –_ “actually –” _kiss –_ “ask me anything,” he informs his lover breathlessly.

“Fair enough,” Minho concedes, to Jonghyun’s surprise. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Jonghyun giggles in spite of himself and the tender gravity of the moment, nuzzling up to bury his face and his amusement in Minho's hair.

“Really?” Minho scoffs dryly, but he’s chuckling too.

Maybe this is the beauty of being with another guy: you both know that the first answer to such a question, however ridiculous and juvenile, can only and immediately be _You._

“Roo has a nail trim at 11,” is the reply, slightly muffled and punctuated by a sound kiss to the crown of Minho’s head. “Otherwise, nothing really.”

“Then move in with me,” Minho says, firmly and sexy as hell.

Jonghyun leans back to meet his eyes with a sprawling, elated grin. “Okay,” he whispers, then struggles for some five minutes to detach his mouth from Minho’s long enough to protest: “But my place has a bathtub and I’ve already paid the pet deposit. Seems only fair that you check it out before we make any decisions, and then we can move whichever of us over on Sunday.”

“We’ve gotta be done by 2,” Minho insists. “And by _done_ I mean home in my bed,” he clarifies huskily, “and I’m unzipping your pants at 1:59.”

“ _God,_ yes,” Jonghyun moans. “Let’s move tomorrow afternoon, then we don’t even have to leave the bed on Sunday.”

“ _Kol,_ ” Minho declares, and pulls Jonghyun down to resume their kiss.

Lips part and tongues plunge and stroke, hotly but without haste or urgency. After all, Jonghyun’s not going anywhere. They can do this for the rest of the night – _every_ night – all day _,_ even, if they can get their days off to sync.

Jonghyun draws back to take Minho's face in both hands and gazes down into those dazzling, beloved eyes. “How do you feel about a winter wedding?” he asks softly, and Minho’s lips curve in a slow, jubilant smile.

“Coffee, cashmere, and cuddling?” he wonders. “Romantic as hell. Sounds _perfect_ ,” he whispers, and draws Jonghyun to him for a kiss that feels like a confession and a commitment and the commemoration of their tenth wedding anniversary all at once.

Jonghyun has no idea how the logistics can possibly work out, but he knows with an absolute, quiet certainty that he’s going to marry this incredible man, and sooner rather than later.

“I love you, Ming,” he whispers, fresh tears burning in his eyes, and wraps his arms around Minho’s strong shoulders, curling him into a full body embrace, fierce thighs clamped at his waist.

“I love you too,” Minho groans into the curve of Jonghyun’s neck, hugging him back with all his might. “ _God,_ I love you, Jonghyunnie,” and Jonghyun sobs at the damp heat of Minho’s tears on his skin.

He rubs his eyes against Minho’s lush hair and trails a hand along his nape. “What's the protocol for tipping an app, babe?” he sniffles, but so, _so_ happily.

Minho chuckles in understanding, if a little brokenly. “We _were_ a mistake, you know,” he reminds Jonghyun, who tugs him back just far enough to meld their mouths in a slow, salty kiss.

“My point exactly,” his fiancé declares. “Even when they screw up, they still get it so, _so_ right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my maiden voyage into SHINee fic (really, my first attempt at RPF in over a decade, thought I've been quite active in other fandoms) and the direct result of the amazing Jongho works (thank you, lala_pipo, satellite_night, airedis, denimdisaster, princessjonghyun, and heartnets, just to name a few) that I stumbled across in my pursuit of 2min. Jongho fic makes me so unbelievably happy and this one just leapt ahead of the 2min premise I had been mulling over for my first foray into this new fandom.
> 
> This first came to me as an idle thought (“Hey, a Jongho version of that Dean Martin sketch would be really fun!”) and I’d done little more than let the premise float through my head for a few days when I had the crackpot idea of an epilogue where Jonghyun and Minho’s female counterparts *do* exist and are set up with each other by the same dating app mix-up, and that’s what finally got me putting down notes and dialogue. Once that was done, though, I realized we had to revisit Jongho on their date, which spiraled into the enormous second “half” of the fic. I really just intended to show that they were completely caught up in each other (genuinely each other’s perfect match), but then Minho wanted to Do Things™ and it got kinda long and sexy, but it still ended up where I’d originally intended (i.e., Jongho exchanging “I love you”s and talking about their wedding).
> 
> This took almost a month longer than I wanted and I have so many other projects that have been on hold in the meantime, but I have some ideas for related drabbles in this 'verse, like Jongho’s first kiss (yes, Jonghyun is on tiptoe) and the very beginning of their date, when they’re trying to figure out the right etiquette to apply (who holds the door, do you push in the other guy’s chair, etc) that I'd eventually like to write. Additionally, I have this crazy sequel headcanon that I’m tempted to play with...
> 
> Long story short: Minjung and Junghee hit it off reasonably enough friend-wise on their soju-soaked evening and Junghee finds herself oddly attracted to the other woman, but Minjung wants to be the girl for once (dammit!) and pushes her away. The dating app contacts all four parties the next day to schedule the subsequent meet-up and Jongho have about two seconds of doubt (there really *were* girl versions of us?) before deciding that the kindest thing would be to agree to the meet-ups but to meet each other’s date and explain the situation. (Chaos may ensue, because holy crap, it’s me as a girl!) In a weak moment, Jonghyun asks Junghee if she’d ever consider being a surrogate mother, because he really wants to have those three kids with Minho and if Junghee was the mother, the kids could actually look like both of their dads. Junghee *does* consider it, being soft and romantic enough to see the appeal, and ends up telling Minjung, who is livid at the entire situation (and honestly heartbroken after managing to catch a glimpse of Jonghyun) but slowly, in spite of herself, Minjung starts thinking about being their surrogate herself, because what would be more feminine than carrying a child (let alone Jonghyun’s baby)? Not sure how exactly this would enfold, but she and Junghee next see each other in a birthing class, and their relationship slowly, finally starts.
> 
> Jongho, meanwhile, are living the fairy tale. No problems or angst there whatsoever. 😊
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	2. Love Is So Nice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, this story REALLY doesn't want to be done yet. (To be honest, I'm nowhere near ready to leave it either.) So have some 8,000 words of inexperienced!Jongho doing soft and sexy things. <3 (Fic rating has been changed to reflect chapter content.)
> 
> I'm hoping to tie this in with the #jjongsmonth fic challenge over on Tumblr. I started the chapter before hearing about said challenge but was working on it all around his birthday, and I think the song fits pretty well as a chapter title.

Jonghyun is no stranger to insomnia, but he typically wakes because his brain won’t settle, not his, well… He shifts his hips in a futile evasion of the sudden, stubborn pressure in his groin, evoking a not-unattractive grunt from the face buried in his hair.

Despite the elation of the evening – the tandem _I love you_ s, even talk of marriage – sleep had come so easily. By the time they settled beneath Minho’s covers, shirtless and almost dizzy with happiness, it had been a matter of a few drowsy – if tenacious – kisses before their bodies fitted together in their current position and their breath fell slow and even with slumber.

Jonghyun can’t quite reach his phone to confirm it, but he has a feeling he’s slept an hour, maybe two at best, and he’s more mortified than anything by the realization. Countless kisses, plenty of grinding, and two full-on orgasms – one of which was brought on by Minho’s gorgeous mouth on his cock, albeit over clothes. What more could his formerly celibate-and-entirely-heterosexual body possibly _need_ in one night?

He gives a small, experimental wriggle of his backside, but he knew the answer already. Minho is spooned snugly against Jonghyun’s torso, long arms looped around his tiny waist, and the cock nestled into the cleft of Jonghyun’s buttocks – a surprisingly pleasant, even instinctive position, which Minho insisted didn’t have to mean anything if Jonghyun didn’t want it to – is comfortably flaccid.

Jonghyun is apparently the only disgusting sex addict in this relationship, and he groans accordingly in shame.

He’s too hard to simply ignore it back down and reattempt sleep, and for one mad half-second he considers rutting against Minho. Minho’s right forearm lays across Jonghyun’s hipbone and his hand is curled softly against the mattress, so exquisitely close to Jonghyun’s cock that he could open the palm with one fingertip and just nudge himself into that hold.

Appalled by the depth of his desperation, he slips free of Minho’s deliciously heavy, cloying limbs with a hastily muttered “ _Be right back_ ” and tiptoes out to the bathroom.

Standing over the toilet, he inches down his waistband just enough to free his erection – if Minho should happen to stumble in and catch him at this, he has to convincingly appear to be doing something much more innocuous – and moans softly at the relief, however small.

He closes a hand around it – just to ease the pressure a little, he promises himself – and whimpers at how stupidly, blindingly _good_ it feels.

 _Just do it,_ his brain clamors – or rather, his cock entreats his brain. _Hurry, don’t think. He’ll never even know, let alone care._

But Jonghyun’s never been particularly quick about jerking off – he likes to take it slow, fingers drifting and tugging and hips arching into his own touch – and he still hasn’t fully committed to the act when the door eases open.

_Heavy sleeper, my ass._

“Didn’t we talk about this?” Minho says softly, his voice so deliciously rough and low with sleep that an eager _glub_ of precum bubbles out beneath Jonghun’s frozen fingertips.

“Just – needed to take a quick leak,” Jonghyun croaks in the feeblest lie he’s ever attempted. The bathroom door is a few feet to his right; his hand might be covering his cock, but Minho can see that the waistband is halfway down his hips. “I’ll be out in –”

“No rush,” Minho murmurs, suddenly at Jonghyun’s ear, both big hands curling around his bare waist, and Jonghyun chokes at the corresponding surge in his cock.

It’s twice as besotted with Minho as the rest of him and has made absolutely no secret of it.

“N-No, really; I’m done,” Jonghyun insists and gives a weak impression of “shaking” his painfully hard cock before tugging the waistband up over it once more, but before he can sidestep out of Minho’s embrace, one hand slips down to gently palm his unmistakable erection through the dampening fabric and Jonghyun’s breath abandons him in a gasp.

It’s the first Minho’s ever touched him like this and his cock swells and dribbles with elation.

“Would you rather take care of this alone?” Minho asks, his own breath catching as he traces the outline of Jonghyun’s cock, and Jonghyun’s hips buck forward in reply, nuzzling his cock into the warm hollow of Minho’s hand.

Minho chuckles raggedly, lips plush and moist against the bare curve of Jonghyun’s shoulder, and accordingly gives Jonghyun’s cock a slow squeeze of welcome. “The answer can still be yes,” he says with surprising somberness. “I want this so much that I almost can’t _breathe_ , but I don’t want to push – or intrude –”

“I’m not some…s-some kind of nymphomaniac,” Jonghyun stammers, barely resisting the urge to circle his hips, to thrust and grind into Minho’s hand.

“I think we both knew that already,” Minho soothes, a thread of tender humor coloring his voice, and he presses a reassuring kiss to Jonghyun’s nape. “I just think…certain parts of you are crazier about me than others.”

“Shut up,” Jonghyun grumbles, even as he cants his hips ever so slightly, initiating the very _faintest_ of rhythms and making Minho emit a strangled sound, halfway between a chuckle and a groan.

“If you want to do this alone, tell me now,” he rasps, his stilled hand trembling over Jonghyun’s cock.

“I don’t want to do this alone,” Jonghyun whispers, and Minho shudders against his nape.

“Then tell me what you _do_ want,” he presses huskily, his hand still unmoving. “Do you just want me to be here, or –”

“I want… I-I want you to…” Jonghyun fumbles, because how do you put it into words that don’t sound cheap and juvenile – or clinical? “ _Please_ touch my cock, Minho-yah,” he whispers.

“Gladly,” Minho moans, and suddenly that glorious hand on Jonghyun’s cock is gone and he’s quite literally _airborne_ : cradled in Minho’s arms and being carried back to bed like a bride on her honeymoon.

Jonghyun doesn’t know whether to yelp in protest or laugh till he cries.

“We’re doing this properly, dammit,” Minho grunts against Jonghyun’s hair, perfectly aware of his amusement, and Jonghyun angles his head back to snag a quick kiss.

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” he wonders.

“Not this hour,” Minho huffs and deposits Jonghyun squarely on his backside on the edge of the mattress. His fingers curl greedily around Jonghyun’s waistband, dragging it downward, and Jonghyun wriggles out of the garment with an impatient little laugh.

Wearing clothes was getting old anyway.

“Holy _fuck,_ ” Minho says reverently, jaw slacking as his loaned-out boxers hit the floor, and Jonghyun raises an arm to cover his erection, suddenly, belatedly very aware of all the reasons why this was a terrible idea.

They just met about seven hours ago (never mind that they’ve long since exchanged confessions and _I love you_ s and even the intention to marry each other).

They both want to take the physical stuff slow (or at least, attempt to do so).

Until about seven hours ago, they both considered themselves straight, and Jonghyun just whipped out a swollen, leaking cock and begged this stunning, still-straight-seven-hours-ago man to _touch_ it (to jerk him off, really, which is even worse) _._

“What’s wrong, baby?” Minho entreats in a soft, unsteady voice, gently rubbing one bare thigh in a gesture that arouses far more than it assures, though the intention was sweet enough. “You’re _gorgeous_ ,” he whispers, trailing his free hand along Jonghyun’s shielding forearm. “I didn’t know how it would feel to see – _you_ – and… I like it,” he confesses, cheeks flushing slightly. “I…I _want_ it,” he adds hesitantly, gaze flickering to meet Jonghyun’s once more, and the truth of these words is evident in his eyes, at once tender and dilated with desire. “However you’re willing to share it with me.”

“I’m a guy,” Jonghyun whispers, stunned by an unexpected rush of vulnerability. Nudity is all well and good when you’re alone, he realizes, but sharing it with someone else – even your already-sort-of lover and future husband – is something else entirely. He’s feeling his size in the worst way now: the proportions of his body compared to Minho’s, his stretch marks – no doubt, his cock fails to measure up as well –

“Hey,” Minho soothes, resting his forehead against Jonghyun’s for a lingering moment, then he settles beside him and hooks one leg around his hips, letting the other dangle off the bed in an endearingly frog-like fashion. “You’re _gorgeous_ ,” he says again, a fierce murmur into Jonghyun’s hair as his arms snug around Jonghyun’s small frame. “So gorgeous I still can’t believe I get to be near you, let alone touch you like this, and I don’t want you to feel scared or rushed.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks, so gently, brushing Jonghyun’s cheek with his nose. “About being with another guy – or any of this?”

In spite of his best efforts, tears are already beading in Jonghyun’s eyes at Minho’s sheer _sweetness._ “Not…like that,” he sniffles. “I love you and want you so _damn_ much, but I feel like you’re one realization away from throwing me out in disgust – and tossing my gross dirty boxers out after me.”

“For the last time, Jonghyunnie,” Minho sighs, but with the tenderest sort of frustration, “your cum is _not_ gross. It took an embarrassing amount of willpower not to, um… make a thorough study of it before I put your clothes in the wash,” he admits with an audible blush, “and both your boxers and jeans are clean and dry and folded on top of my dresser with your sweater. They’d be inside it already,” he explains, “but I thought you might want to wear them tomorrow, or at least pick your own drawers.

“And as for the rest,” he goes on as Jonghyun proceeds to melt at these declarations, “are there any whopping major secrets you haven’t told me? Because I honestly think we can weather anything.”

“I’m a guy?” Jonghyun says feebly, and this time Minho chuckles, soft and sexily against Jonghyun’s ear.

“I _know_ ,” he reveals in a delighted, conspiratorial tone. “And I’m so attracted to you – so completely, utterly entranced and in love with every last _speck_ of you – that I’m astonished I didn’t walk into any street signs or parked cars while we were out tonight.”

“Don’t make fun,” Jonghyun whines, and Minho burrows into his neck to suck hotly at a patch of skin, making Jonghyun whimper and arch back against him.

“Not…making fun,” he pants lightly. “This is new and scary for me too, but everything about you feels so _right_ , I keep forgetting that it’s not the norm to arrange to meet your dream girl and then fall head over heels for the guy who showed up instead.”

He caresses the forearm still shielding Jonghyun’s erection. “If it’s too much or too soon,” he offers, “I’ll lay back down and pretend I never knew anything about this.”

His own cock is nosing inquisitively against Jonghyun’s hip – not quite rigid and rearing, but determinedly making its presence known – and Jonghyun bites back a laugh or retort or maybe a moan.

The fact that his underwhelming small body can bring this gorgeous man’s cock to attention is the biggest damn ego stroke he’s ever experienced in his life.

“I’m a gentleman,” he finally manages. “I can’t send you away like this – ” he nudges Minho’s erection – “yet _again_.”

“This isn’t about me,” Minho insists, though his voice is rougher than a moment ago and even quavers slightly. “Do you still want – are you still okay with,” he amends, fingertips skimming Jonghyun’s forearm, “me touching you… _here_?”

His free hand reaches up to shut off the bedside lamp – the only light source in the room, save for streetlamp glow at the window – and Jonghyun gives a little sob of gratitude.

“Better?” Minho wonders, the intimacy of his voice somehow, exquisitely, amped up by the darkness, and Jonghyun nods mutely, easing his arm away from his groin.

He knows better than to expect Minho’s hand to descend in a grope, but still his breath catches at the soft, hesitant touch along the inside of his left thigh, easing him a little wider open. At the feel of someone’s else’s hand – _Minho’s_ hand – between his legs.

“M-My hands are big,” Minho explains in an awkward, endearing stammer. “I just thought – a little more room…”

Jonghyun wonders if there’s a jibe about the size of his cock hidden in there, and then Minho’s fingertips brush the nest of coarse hair at the base of Jonghyun’s cock and he forgets his own name in a jagged skitter of breath.

Darkness was the best and worst idea ever.

“Was that okay?” Minho asks, uncertain, and Jonghyun encourages him onward with a frantic nod, inching his thighs wider still.

“Touch me, Minho-yah,” he pleads. “However – wherever – you want, just please, _please_ touch me.”

Minho moans softly against Jonghyun’s shoulder, then Jonghyun’s breath sags out in a slow, ragged, “ _Fuck…_ ” as fingertips skim along his length, careful and _so_ tender, simply _feeling_ him.

“Fuck,” Minho echoes, voice husky and unsteady as he repeats the gesture, still so lightly, as though he’s savoring the texture. “You’re so _soft_ ,” he breathes.

“ _Soft?_ ” Jonghyun croaks in hoarse disbelief, because he’s hard as a rock and liable to burst at any moment.

“Your _skin_ ,” Minho clarifies, almost a sigh, slowly curling his hand around Jonghyun’s cock. “You feel _amazing._ ”

“Y-You do have one of these of your own, right?” Jonghyun chokes out. “That you’ve, um, touched once or twice?”

Minho chuckles gently and brings Jonghyun’s left hand back to rest on his own erection, now jutting against Jonghyun’s hip. “Yes, and yes,” he replies, gasping softly as Jonghyun gives his cock a timid squeeze through the cotton of his boxer-briefs. “But does this feel anything at all like touching yourself?”

“ _God,_ no,” Jonghyun whispers, uncertain which part he’s talking about, but it hardly matters as both are true.

“Then why,” Minho wonders hoarsely, swabbing the head of Jonghyun’s cock with his thumb and spreading the slippery precum in trembling, uneven circles down the length of him, making Jonghyun squirm in both pleasure and anticipation, “would you think it feels the same for me?”

Jonghyun shakes his head against Minho’s throat, exquisitely tormented as Minho coats him thoroughly from root to tip with the eager bounty of precum. “I thought…” he pants, rubbing mindlessly at the cock beneath his hand and making Minho groan. “I-I thought it might be less…somehow…because we have the same parts, but –”

He trails off in a garble of inarticulate syllables as Minho’s hand curls around his slickened cock and begins to pump gently. “Fuck,” he whimpers. “That feels so _good._ ”

“For me too, baby,” Minho whispers raggedly against his ear. “ _You_ feel so good – so hard and so soft. I want to feel you with my cheek, my lips –”

Jonghyun cries out, his cock thrumming at the suggestion, and he grapples at Minho’s wrist with his free hand. “Fuck, I’m close,” he keens – apologizes, maybe – only to yelp in dismay as Minho’s hand leaves his cock to caress his inner thigh.

“Shh,” Minho soothes, though his heart is clamoring against Jonghyun’s back and his breath falls short and shallow at Jonghyun’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to tease,” he assures his lover. “I just don’t want to rush this, not after what it took for you to trust me, to let me touch you like this. Let me tell you how pretty you are,” he whispers, long fingers dancing between Jonghyun’s thighs, silky fleeting strokes that should tantalize, yet somehow feel unimaginably _good_ on his engorged cock.

“How I want to make a life with you,” Minho goes on, as though they’re simply nestled together on the sofa in the midst of a cuddling session. As though his hand isn’t slicked with precum and patiently fondling Jonghyun’s genitals like some rare precious object. “We can ditch both apartments and pick out a new place together, if you want,” he offers huskily. “A house, maybe, so our three little girls have room to play.”

Jonghyun sobs softly and Minho kisses the tender underside of his jaw. “I want to kiss every part of you,” he murmurs, dipping his hand lower still, to cup Jonghyun’s balls and trace the swollen contours of each with his thumb. “And I want to meet all your friends,” he says, finally – _finally_ – curling his hand around Jonghyun’s rigid, pleading cock and pumping, slow and steady. “And embarrass you at work with romantic voicemails and presents, and visit your family on all the holidays –”

“God, I love you,” Jonghyun whimpers, grasping at Minho’s knees to brace himself, because he’s a breath away from coming harder than he ever has in his life. So hard that it’ll take him two minutes just to draw a breath afterward and his vision will still be spotty in the morning.

“ _Can_ I?” Minho is whispering – _begging_ – mouth wet and hot against Jonghyun’s ear, and Jonghyun nods frantically, never mind he has absolutely no idea what the question was, save that it must involve this incredible, gorgeous man making him come.

“Fuck _,_ _yes,_ ” he moans. “ _Yes yes yes…_ ”

Without warning, Minho’s hand leaves Jonghyun’s cock, then his warmth unwinds entirely from around Jonghyun’s body.

He’s rocked by confusion, even desolation at the absence, made all the more perplexing by the enveloping darkness and the desperation for release numbing all rational thought, then suddenly there are hands between his thighs, edging him wide as his cock is engulfed in liquid heat, soft and slippery and sucking him deep with a muffled groan that resonates through his very core.

He doesn’t have the time or presence of mind to realize what’s happening before he shatters, almost convulsing with the force of his orgasm, his vision whiting out and eyes streaming as his cum shoots, long and hard –

-and Minho swallows around him – swallows _him_ – with a plaintive, pleasured moan, as though he just received something he’s only dreamed of.

Jonghyun slumps forward, limp and stunned, to curl around the head buried, quite literally, in his lap; that sweet, gorgeous mouth gently working the last few drops from his cock, milking him dry. “You bastard,” he whispers with so much love he almost can’t breathe, trailing his fingers through the sweat-sheen on Minho’s back with something like wonder.

Minho suckles him soft with contented little sounds, then licks him clean from root to tip before nuzzling his face into the crook of one thigh, inhaling deeply of Jonghyun’s intimate musk and sighing as Jonghyun’s damp, flaccid cock falls against his cheek.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, the brush of his lips against the sensitive skin making Jonghyun shudder.

“Get up here,” Jonghyun rasps, stumbling over syllables with his pleasure-slackened tongue and tugging weakly at Minho’s hair. “Or at least, send your dick up, because I owe you satisfaction, or…something.”

Minho chuckles. “But I really _like it_ down here,” he entreats, gently lifting Jonghyun’s cock to press a lingering kiss to each of his balls, then his taint, then – a half-second before Jonghyun’s mind can calculate the next stop in the progression – he hooks his hands behind Jonghyun’s buttocks and tugs, angling him up to peck a kiss to his –

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Jonghyun squeaks, shock piercing the pleasure-fog, and he scuttles backward on the bed, very nearly clocking Minho in the head with one flailing leg. “D-D-Did you _really_ just –”

Minho is full-on _laughing_ now, that high-pitched cackle so incongruous with his low, gentle voice – that stupid laugh that should annoy the hell out of Jonghyun but instead makes him light up inside like a damn Christmas tree – and Jonghyun lunges over to smack the bedside lamp back on and restore order to the universe.

He’s greeted by the vision of his stunning lover lying – practically _rolling_ – on the floor, boxer-briefs tented beneath a broad patch of dampness, lips dark and swollen almost obscenely and toned abs clenching with laughter beneath one hand as he wipes at his eyes with the other. “Jonghyunn _ieeeeeeee_ ,” he wheezes. “I love you so much.”

Naturally, the only possible response is for Jonghyun to spring off the bed and drop to his knees astride that glorious midsection, pinning Minho’s shoulders to the floor in what absolutely _should_ be a sobering demonstration of confident sexuality, but Minho only splutters into fresh hysterics.

“Y-Your dick fell in my belly button,” he pants between giggles. “I mean, it feels nice, but it’s all soft and squidgy now so it just _ploonked_ in there when you straddled me –” 

Cheeks on fire, Jonghyun scrambles to get up, but Minho catches his hips to hold him in place. “Also…it’s kind of hot,” he says, almost shyly. “You pinning me to my bedroom floor, all gorgeous and naked, with your spent cock on my belly and that post-orgasm glow.”

“I’m…glowing?” Jonghyun wonders, his blush deepening beneath Minho’s adoration.

“Like a full moon,” Minho affirms, rubbing Jonghyun’s bare hips in lush, lazy circles and – to his eternal shame – making his cock twitch faintly with interest. Right there, lying between them on Minho’s belly, with absolutely no way or place to hide, and Minho slides a hand down to cradle it, almost curiously.

“Still so soft,” he sighs, “and so pretty. Like the rest of you.”

“ _Stop it,_ ” Jonghyun whispers, looking away at a simultaneous torrent of embarrassment and gush of arousal.

“You feel even better in my mouth,” Minho murmurs, thumb tracing gently along Jonghyun’s length. “ _So_ damn good, like you _belong_ there – and you taste so good too. I’m glad we didn’t wait till Sunday.”

“I’m not,” Jonghyun huffs breathlessly, glaring down at the besotted man between his thighs, though he can’t quite bring himself to push away that wonderful, tormenting hand. “How the actual hell are we supposed to get _anything_ done tomorrow now that we know what _this_ feels like??”

“Then we’ll work that much faster,” Minho says cheekily, giving Jonghyun’s cock a slow, promising squeeze.

His own erection is so hard and high, he’s practically tipping Jonghyun forward; how dare he lie there, all soppy and sated – as if _he_ ’s the one who just experienced the mind-blowing orgasm?

“Oh!” Jonghyun exclaims at a sudden realization. “Did you, um…y-you didn’t…?”

He feels like a complete idiot, but he really has no idea how these things work outside of his own, erm, hands-on experience. Minho’s hard as a rock but his boxers are damp; could he have come while sucking off Jonghyun and be hard again – or still?

“Did you, um… _come,_ before?” Jonghyun fumbles out, eyes gritted shut at the stupid question, and he almost cries with relief when Minho doesn’t laugh.

“Almost,” he replies, voice a little tight, and Jonghyun looks down into those same swollen black pupils that drank him in on the park bench, just a few hours ago. “But…it wasn’t about me,” he says softly.

“Why not?” Jonghyun presses, because he’s been wondering ever since Minho went down on him against the door and didn’t want anything for himself after.

“For one,” Minho says thoughtfully, “maybe because I’m new to all of this, but – I don’t like the idea of owing or paying back…this kind of thing. If I’m doing something because I want to make you feel good, I’m not going to turn around afterward and expect you to return the favor.”

Jonghyun’s lips curve in a foolish, irrepressible smile – how on earth did he land the jackpot that is this man? – and he leans down to peck a kiss to the tip of Minho’s nose. “Marry me soon,” he pleads and shifts to lie on Minho’s chest, legs folded to either side of his hips, as strong arms curl around his torso.

The feel of so much bare skin – _Minho’s_ bare skin – against his naked body makes every cell in Jonghyun’s body tingle and croon. There’s something exquisitely, deliciously _complete_ about embracing like this, chest to chest, skin to skin – something that, in its own way, feels even better than an orgasm.

“ _Oh_ , this feels good,” Minho sighs. “Like – _the best_ , Jonghyunnie. Can we sleep like this tonight?”

“Mmm,” Jonghyun hums blissfully, blindly flinging an arm behind him to grab the edge of the comforter and pulling it halfway off the bed to drape over them both before lying down on Minho once more.

Minho chuckles, a soft, pleasant vibration beneath Jonghyun’s cheek. “I meant in the bed,” he says, hugging Jonghyun back into place. “But this is good too.”

“Not good: _the best_ ,” Jonghyun corrects, rooting his face against Minho’s throat.

After several languid moments of simply melting into each other, of blurring the borders of _me_ and _you,_ Minho strokes a hand along Jonghyun’s spine, from cleft to nape and back down again, raising goosebumps of pleasure the length of his torso and making his nipples tighten. “Also – in answer to your question a minute ago,” he murmurs, “you’re my dream girl, Jonghyunnie. Unattainable and _so_ beautiful and everything I never knew I wanted, suddenly lying in my arms. I’m still trying to convince myself that this is _real_ ,” he says raggedly, “and, well… _worshipping_ you every chance I get.”

“Maybe,” Jonghyun whispers against his throat. “Maybe I want to do that too.”

He sits up before Minho can reply, shrugging back the comforter, and whimpers slightly as Minho’s big hands slip down to cup his buttocks. They ditched their t-shirts by mutual decision before bed and Minho spent a ridiculous amount of time simply _fondling_ Jonghyun’s little waist beneath the sheets – and of course there were all those hot wet kisses to Jonghyun’s midsection earlier, with his shirt pushed up – but they really haven’t enjoyed much quality time with each other’s bare chest, and Jonghyun none at all.

He’s stolen plenty of peeks, both longing and envious – because dammit, Minho is _cut_ – but he has yet to touch. He’s happily received and, to an extent, returned all of Minho’s gestures, but somehow - despite his obsession with skinship - he hasn’t initiated very many of his own.

Hasn’t taken advantage of the beautiful body – of all that firm olive skin – currently spread before him like a banquet. Something he rectifies now, hands drifting across the taut terrain of abdominals as his mouth descends to a nipple.

He has no idea if Minho’s nipples – if men’s nipples in general – are particularly sensitive or if he would even welcome Jonghyun’s mouth there, but the answer comes immediately in a gasp and a surge of the cock pressed against Jonghyun’s backside.

“Holy fuck,” Minho breathes. “Please – can you do that again?”

Jonghyun smiles around the nubbin between his lips and suckles, soft and wetly, flicking the tip with his tongue and making Minho cry out.

“Scratch that,” he pants. “I-I don’t think – I’m too close –”

Jonghyun lifts his head, mildly disappointed to pause this delicious new pastime so soon, but there’s so much more of Minho to explore, even – and one might say, _especially_ – if he’s so desperately close to the edge.

Tossing the comforter back further, he scoots down onto Minho’s thighs and proceeds to nibble, soft-lipped, at his navel (is it weird to put his mouth where his cock just was?), making Minho squirm – no, _buck_ , his clothed erection narrowly missing Jonghyun’s throat.

“That…that’s not better, baby,” he croaks. “I mean – it _is_ – it feels _amazing_ , but I –”

In an act of sheer daring that he may well regret for the rest of his life, Jonghyun inches down further still, bringing his face to the level of Minho’s cock, and gives the damp cotton a small, curious lick.

Minho buckles up beneath him, bumping Jonghyun’s lips with his cock, not hard – and not unpleasantly – but mortification floods his arousal-blown features. “Oh fuck,” he rasps. “That’s – God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jonghyun soothes, rubbing Minho’s thighs in an echo of Minho’s own comforting behavior – was it even half an hour ago? – when Jonghyun was aching with arousal, and he presses a furtive kiss to the cock beneath his lips. The precum is a little bitter, a little salty, and he wants more than anything to explore the headwaters of that flow.

“I want to do this for you,” he murmurs, fingertips slipping beneath Minho’s waistband and edging it down ever so slightly. “I want to stroke you and suck you – ” Minho whimpers at that, loud and exquisitely – “but I know you’re really close, so I want it to be what _you_ want – ”

“Are you _sure_?” Minho breaks in, voice almost painfully tight. “Jonghyunnie, I want this – want _you_ – more than you can imagine, but I’m so far beyond my resistance threshold right now, I’ll probably come on your hands the second my boxers are off – if I even make it that far.”

Jonghyun smiles and rubs Minho’s hips as reassuringly as he can. “I’m _so_ okay with that,” he says. “I still can’t believe I lasted more than, like, a minute with you touching me. Being touched like this by another person – let alone someone you love – is overwhelming, and it’s not like we’ve had a lot of opportunity to build up our control.”

“We’ll have to practice, then,” Minho says, leaning up to brush Jonghyun’s cheek with tender fingertips. “God, you’re sweet.”

“Says the man who jerked me off while musing about our future home and children,” Jonghyun replies with gentle impishness. “Can you lift your hips a little for me, baby?”

“God, _yes_ ,” Minho groans, pressing his heels into the floor to arch up slightly, and Jonghyun eases the boxer-briefs down to Minho’s thighs, earning a collective moan as his erection is freed at last.

Minho’s cock is absolutely breathtaking. Long and lovely, slick and turgid and literally weeping for Jonghyun’s hands, mouth, _anything_ , and Jonghyun feels a small inward measure of relief to be aroused – not repulsed – by the sight.

“You’re _beautiful_ ,” he breathes. “Fuck, Minho…can I really – ?”

“ _Yes!_ ” Minho cries. “Just – _anything,_ do whatever you want, just – for the love of God, _please_ _touch me_.”

Jonghyun smiles at this echo of his own plea. “Give me half a sec, babe,” he promises, and throwing off the comforter entirely, he wriggles Minho’s boxer-briefs down those glorious long legs, then climbs back up to straddle his thighs.

And _fuck,_ if just feeling Minho’s naked body between his own naked thighs isn’t the hottest thing in the world.

“Jonghyunnie,” Minho gulps, eyes flying open at the suggestion in their pose, “you’re not –?” and Jonghyun moves up to reassure him with a kiss, the action bringing their cocks into contact and making them both gasp.

“Shh,” he whispers against Minho’s lips. “No, we’re not gonna rush into anything. But if we only have a minute, I want to make the most of it.”

Minho’s cock is hot and hard and slippery against Jonghyun’s belly, and he leans back to take his own in hand – it’s harder than should be possible so soon after coming _in Minho’s mouth_ (for the love of all that’s holy), but he’s beyond caring – and traces the head along Minho’s length, making them both choke with pleasure.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Minho moans. “That feels _amazing_ …”

“For me too,” Jonghyun whimpers back, jaw slacking as he repeats the movement. “Minho-yah, I - fuck, I think I’m gonna come again,” he rasps, overwhelmed by the sudden rage of pressure in his groin.

“Shit,” Minho gasps, but the expression on his face is one of awe. “Already?”

“I-I guess when you have a small tank, it doesn’t take so long to refill,” Jonghyun babbles in overly-aroused stupidity, and Minho gives a strained laugh in reply.

“We’ll discuss your _perfect_ little tank in a minute,” he says, voice husky and tight. “Do you think…we can do this – can try to come – _together_?”

“Had a thought,” Jonghyun pants, and before he can lose his nerve, he lifts his pelvis just enough to slide atop Minho’s cock and gives a hesitant rock of his hips, gliding himself from balls to cleft along that pulsing, rigid length.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Minho cries, big hands clamping around Jonghyun’s hips and pressing him down hard as Minho arches up beneath him. “Fuck, Jongie, that’s so good. Just like that.”

“God, yes,” Jonghyun moans, dizzy with pleasure – or maybe the surge of blood to his cock – and that deliciously new, wanton feeling of _knowing_ that your actions are pushing your lover to the brink, and he proceeds to ride Minho’s length in slow, slick, grinding motions that make his own swollen cock bounce between their bodies.

It’s not sex – not quite – but it looks and _feels_ so damn close, Jonghyun almost comes at the realization. They’re naked on Minho’s bedroom floor, flushed and gasping and rocking rhythmically against each other, Minho’s cock disappearing deep between Jonghyun’s thighs with every thrust.

Jonghyun brings a hand to his own cock, desperate for some friction there, and then Minho’s arms are around him and he’s being rolled onto his back in a hot, sloppy, gorgeous kiss. “I’m coming,” Minho whimpers against his mouth, moving Jonghyun’s hand away to rub their cocks together once more. “Wanna be closer to you.”

Jonghyun wraps his arms around Minho’s trembling body without hesitation and holds him as he unravels, hips jerking and small broken sounds leaving his lips as he comes between Jonghyun’s splayed legs, hot sticky threads of cum streaking Jonghyun’s belly and cock – and suddenly, silently, Jonghyun’s own cum is mingling with it. It’s a smaller load and not half so forceful as the last, but Minho gives a little sob of acknowledgement and clings to him as they ride out the aftershocks, hips flush and cocks pressed together.

With a low moan, Minho’s full weight – that long, lean, glistening body – sinks over Jonghyun’s smaller form, and Jonghyun feels like a goddess: sated and cum-stained and utterly radiant, with the most beautiful man on earth lying spent between his thighs.

“ _Yah,_ ” he says tenderly, stroking Minho’s sweat-dampened back with boneless fingers. “Minho. Ming. Minho-yah. I love you.”

“Mmm,” Minho acknowledges in a sleepy, blissed-out grunt. “Gotta go pack. Moving tonight.”

Jonghyun chuckles. “Okay, baby,” he plays along. “Which of us is moving?”

“Both,” Minho huffs, while making absolutely no move to shift his weight off Jonghyun. “We can get married in Taiwan. I looked it up while you were in the shower.”

Jonghyun’s face splits in a wide, stupid, sprawling grin that he quickly buries in Minho’s hair. “I, uh, don’t recall anyone proposing before I got in the shower,” he points out with measured nonchalance.

“Been wanting to marry you for hours and hours now,” Minho slurs, and still Jonghyun’s breath catches. “Just you, Jongie. You and me: marriage and babies and happily ever after.”

“If this is the orgasm talking, I swear I’ll kill you,” Jonghyun whispers, and Minho lifts his head to reveal drowsy but entirely lucid eyes.

“We don’t have to go anywhere tonight,” he says softly. “In fact, I’d really rather we didn’t. But I want to marry you so badly, Jongie, and it _is_ legal in Taiwan. And – I _did_ look it up while you were in the shower,” he admits with a bashful duck of his head. “I probably would’ve done it at the club,” he adds, cheeks darkening, “but I was too busy falling in love with your voice and your stage presence and frantically trying to figure out how gay sex works.”

“I think we’ll be okay on that front,” Jonghyun says lightly, stealing a hand to brush one hot cheek. “This was _heaven,_ even if it wasn’t quite…all the way.”

“Mmm,” Minho agrees, leaning into Jonghyun’s palm. “This was perfect. Don’t wanna rush.”

Jonghyun giggles in spite of himself. “We went from shyly dry humping on the sofa a couple of hours ago, fully clothed, to riding each other naked on your bedroom floor, and we’re still talking about not rushing?”

“You know what I mean,” Minho says gently, circling the tiny mole between Jonghyun’s collarbones with a fingertip. “Fingers up in places, stretching and….and lube and –”

“Hella sore the next day?” Jonghyun supplies in a small voice.

Minho smiles sadly. “I won’t deny the appeal of being _inside_ you,” he says. “But it kills me to think of hurting you like that.”

“And – and…you don’t want me to…um…to – the other way, right?” Jonghyun fumbles out, squeezing his eyes shut in mortification, but Minho startles them open with a swift, soft kiss to his mouth.

“Honestly, that bothers me a lot less,” he says. “And not because of your _perfect_ little cock – I _mean_ ,” he groans at Jonghyun’s lifted eyebrow. “Your cock is perfect –”

“And little?” Jonghyun interjects dryly.

“It’s _pretty_ ,” Minho insists, “and just exactly the right size, and I think it would feel amazing inside me. It _already_ felt amazing inside my mouth,” he reminds Jonghyun with an expression that might’ve been a smirk if he wasn’t blushing so hard. “And ultimately, it’s got nothing to do with size. It’s – if one of us has to be in pain, I’d rather it be me,” he says simply.

“ _God,_ I love you,” Jonghyun groans and pulls him down for a long hot mess of a kiss, all wet delving tongues and lips suckling lips. “Never mind that ‘if one of us has to be in pain,’” he pants several minutes later, “is a ridiculous way to determine which of us–”

“It’s a damn good way to determine it,” Minho counters, and it would be quite emphatic if he wasn’t so breathless. “But I have another idea, since apparently you don’t want to top your loving and considerate fiancé.”

“I never said that,” Jonghyun retorts without quite thinking it through and feels a full-on _gochujang_ blush descend at Minho’s pleasantly startled expression. “God damn it, Ming, _don’t look at me like that!_ ” he whines, covering his face with both palms. “I didn’t say I wanted to jump you anytime soon, just that…I’m not _entirely_ averse to the idea, some day – months – _years_ down the road.

“I honestly never thought it would be an option,” he admits quietly. “And now that I’ve – sort of – felt you down there,” he adds, blush blazing like a bonfire, “I, um…kind of like the idea of…feeling more. Of you. Um… _down there_ ,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, but the hope and sheer damn _awe_ dawning in Minho’s eyes make it painfully clear that he both heard and understood.

“You, um, said you had an idea?” Jonghyun recalls, a little too loudly, directing his gaze toward the wall outlet where the bedside lamp plugs in, but Minho gently turns him back and kisses every inch of his burning face.

“Whenever we decide to do it,” Minho murmurs, “whenever we’re both ready – _really_ ready – I think we should undress each other, climb into bed, and let our bodies figure out what they want to do.”

“That sounds really nice,” Jonghyun sighs. “But…but what if our bodies can’t – what if we can’t make it work?” he wonders. “Sex, I mean – what if it hurts too much or you get grossed out or –”

Minho silences his panic with a kiss, soft and steadying. “Jonghyun, _baby,_ ” he soothes, nuzzling their faces together. “There isn’t a single cell of you that could possibly gross me out. I want to go down on you next time when the sun is up, so I can see everything I’m kissing. You’ll be so beautiful in the afternoon sunlight,” he says huskily. “Your legs splayed against the sheets, your pretty cock glistening against your belly and your delicious little ass –”

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Jonghyun groans – _wails,_ really – in mortification. “My ass is not a…a _side dish_!”

Minho laughs, hugging Jonghyun’s indignant little body with all his might. “I’d argue that it’s a main course all on its own, but I’m more concerned about your comfort,” he chuckles, but so gently. “I _promise_ it’s not gross, but if you don’t want my mouth there: end of discussion.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jonghyun mumbles, almost inaudibly, but Minho clearly didn’t miss a syllable, as his entire face crinkles with delight against Jonghyun’s throat.

“We won’t rush,” he promises. “You tell me when you’re ready, if ever, and if it doesn’t feel good – that, or anything else I’m doing – just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” Jonghyun whispers, and Minho leans back to brush their mouths together.

“Now, if I only had a bathtub, we could clean up properly,” he says ruefully. “Let’s get you up and have a look at you.”

Jonghyun whimpers at the departure of Minho’s heavy warmth, punctuated by a quiet squelch as their torsos peel apart, but before he can protest, Minho’s arms slide beneath his back and legs, scooping him up. Those mile-long legs heft him like a feather, then he’s laid on the bed with exquisite care and a lingering kiss to his forehead.

“Ah,” Minho remarks as he straightens, eyes fixed on the sticky tangle of cum threads streaking Jonghyun’s torso, and his cheeks darken adorably. The milky shimmer of their mingled cum is breathtaking against Minho’s olive skin, and Jonghyun blushes in turn as his spent cock stirs, faintly but unmistakably, at the sight.

“Is this supposed to be hot or gross?” he asks in a small voice, gesturing between their bodies. “Because my brain is fully prepared to call it gross, but…other parts have other ideas.”

“Yeah,” Minho says, a little unsteadily. “Like, I wouldn’t want to stay like this all night, and it’s a little embarrassing seeing… _me_ all over you – but it’s really, _really_ hot at the same time,” he concludes.

“So…how ‘bout that shower…?” Jonghyun wonders flirtatiously, but his eyes don’t seem to want to stay open, and the sentence trails off into a yawn. He hadn’t realized how hard the floor was until he had Minho’s mattress and pillows and cool, smooth sheets beneath him once more, and his body feels like a limp rag, wrung dry to the last drop – albeit in the headiest, most pleasant manner possible.

“I don’t think either of us could manage that tonight,” Minho replies, tenderly brushing Jonghyun’s bangs free from where they’ve clung to the sweat on his forehead. “Not to mention, I think we both want to be awake and alert, at least for the first time, so we can remember every detail.”

“Cheesy bastard,” Jonghyun snorts, but his lips loll into an enormous stupid grin and he squeezes his eyes shut to punctuate it.

“And you’re loving every minute of it,” Minho reminds him, startling Jonghyun’s eyes open with a wet smack of a kiss to one cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He turns to leave the room and Jonghyun rolls onto his side to unabashedly admire the view. Minho’s long legs end in small, firm, _magnificent_ buttocks that positively cry out for greedy fondles and a curious mouth, and if Jonghyun had it in him just now, he’d leap from the bed to wrap his arms around those narrow hips and nuzzle his face between those taut bronze cheeks.

“Stop ogling my ass,” Minho calls over his shoulder, tone light and deeply amused.

“Not a chance,” Jonghyun shoots back lazily. “You’re just as hot going as coming – _oh fuck,_ ” he squeaks as the words settle in, clamping the edge of the pillow over his mouth. “I-I mean –”

Minho turns in the doorway, lips twitching and face crimson to the earlobes. “God, you’re adorable,” he says. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Jonghyun lowers the pillow, his own cheeks burning. “You better,” he replies, and Minho departs with a shy little wave that sends a flutter all the way to Jonghyun’s toes.

Jonghyun watches the doorway for about a minute before his eyes drift closed again, and he’s unaware that he’s fallen asleep till he feels strong hands at his hip and shoulder, turning him gently onto his back.

“Shh, I’ll be quick,” Minho murmurs. “If this isn’t comfortable, let me know, okay?”

Jonghyun hums drowsily in acknowledgement, not bothering to open his eyes, and a pleasantly hot washcloth rubs at his skin from ribs to belly, gently clearing away the residues of their – _lovemaking_?

It’s a very good word, he decides, for what’s happened between them over the past hour.

“Feels nice,” he sighs. “You can bed-bathe the rest of me if you want.”

“It’s on my five-year plan,” Minho answers with a quiet chuckle. He reverses the washcloth to use the remaining heat to swab, so tenderly, between Jonghyun’s legs, his free hand lifting Jonghyun’s cock as the other maneuvers the cloth around and along it, every movement careful and thorough.

It’s not sexual in the least, and it might be the most intimate thing they’ve done yet.

“I love you, you know,” Jonghyun says, soft and sleepily, and sighs as lips brush his navel, then the jut of each hipbone in turn.

“Love you too, baby,” Minho murmurs, tugging the covers up to Jonghyun’s chin – effectively _tucking him in_ – in what might be his most endearing gesture of the night. “Stay warm under there,” he says, “and I’ll just be another minute, okay?”

Jonghyun is still awake when he returns – stubbornly this time, because he’ll be damned if he misses out on naked cuddling with his beautiful fiancé after their first (sort of) attempt at sex – but instead of promptly climbing beneath the covers to join him, Minho sits on the edge of the bed, alongside Jonghyun’s hip, a bottle of some cosmetic product and a fresh washcloth in hand.

“Close your eyes for a sec,” he says with a small, strange smile, at once hesitant and hopeful.

“I’ve seen it all before,” Jonghyun responds cheekily and is accordingly kissed for his pains.

“I think there might be an inch or two I’ve kept hidden,” Minho teases back. “Please, Jonghyunnie. It’ll only take a second, I promise.”

Jonghyun obliges, lips twitching. “But how do I know you’re not up to – ”

His banter breaks off in a caught breath at the featherlight touch of Minho’s fingertip, daubing a thin layer of oil along his lash line, then a subsequent gasp when he realizes what’s happening.

Minho is removing his eyeliner.

The waterproof eyeliner that’s held firm through all of Jonghyun’s crying bouts and even his shower, like a final impenetrable layer of armor, and Minho’s literally dissolving it with his tenderness.

“I, um…” he croaks, feeling suddenly, painfully vulnerable. More exposed – more _naked_ – than when he pulled off his boxers and let Minho see every intimate inch of his body.

He should’ve removed the eyeliner after his shower – he would have, were he at home, without a second thought, and of course Minho would’ve happily lent Jonghyun the cleansing oil he’s presently using – but…Minho is so in love with his eyes. Minho _fell_ _in love_ with Jonghyun because of his eyes – and okay, maybe Jonghyun was scared that would all end when he finally took the makeup off. He has nice enough eyes, he thinks, but they’re so small and _plain_ without liner, not large and lustrous like Minho’s, and –

“That’s it, I think,” Minho says softly, dabbing away the last bit of oil from Jonghyun’s left eyelid with his washcloth. “You can open them now.”

Jonghyun bites his lips together, swallowing panic and tears, and peers through damp lashes to find Minho staring down at him in sheer, breathtaking adoration.

“Ah, _there_ they are,” Minho says, a little hoarsely, fingertips falling against Jonghyun’s cheek. “The most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”

A tear slips from the corner of Jonghyun’s left eye to trail down his cheek, and the inner edges of Minho’s brows arch in that captivating expression Jonghyun loves so well. “Did I get some in your eyes?” he worries, leaning back in with the washcloth. “I tried to be so careful –”

“Please come down here and _hold me_ ,” Jonghyun whispers, or maybe whimpers, and Minho complies without hesitation, lifting the covers just enough to slide in beside Jonghyun and gather him in his arms.

“Did I say the wrong thing?” he wonders, caressing Jonghyun’s scalp as he rocks him gently, immediately providing comfort – _physical_ comfort, pulse and warmth and skin-on-skin – without waiting for an explanation, and Jonghyun loves him all the more for it. It suddenly feels like he was starving until he met Minho, who hasn’t stopped nourishing him with touch since that first shy brush of his sweater sleeve in the park.

“Or maybe _do_ the wrong thing?” Minho is going on. “I know I should’ve asked – and don’t misunderstand, the eyeliner was _hot_ , but…I didn’t want you to look in the mirror tomorrow morning and think that I fell for the window dressing,” he says softly. “I wanted you to see how beautiful you are without any embellishments at all. To know that I love you just like this.”

Spent with pleasure and tears and the swelling of a soul at the presence of its mate, Jonghyun has no words to reply. He lifts his face just enough to sink his mouth against Minho’s in a throaty sob and surrenders himself to be cradled, long limbs winding about his small body like thornless rose vines as a beloved gentle voice buries tender promises in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm switching this fic back to "in progress" because I have notes for at least one more chapter (that promises to be a long one), and I'm honestly not sure I'll be able to stop it there - because suddenly the rest of SHINee wants to be involved! The next chapter sees Jongho taking Roo to the groomer for her nail trim and the chaos that may ensue before and after. 
> 
> A conversation with my former roommate got me thinking about writing a short Dream Girl "remix," where Jongho don't manage to confess their feelings in the park, but they're still experiencing that crazy draw toward each other - they just haven't quite realized/accepted what it means. Jonghyun accordingly asks Minho for his number and they decide (as "friends") to go and do all the date things they had planned (cafe, noodle restaurant, art gallery, Taemin flirts with Minho at the jazz club and makes Jonghyun oddly jealous... ;D) and have an amazing (platonic) evening that neither of them wants to end. Afterward, they can't quite bring themselves to reschedule the meet-ups with their actual "dream girls" (me wonders why... ;D) and everything comes to a head when Minho comes over to clean Jonghyun's ceiling fan (no, really! :D). So that may be forthcoming as well, if time and inspiration oblige.


End file.
